


every soul is a setting sun

by Fives (janfives90)



Category: The Prom - Sklar/Beguelin/Martin
Genre: F/F, Hades/Persephone AU, with a small dose of soulmate au for flavor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2020-07-28 18:16:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 21,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20068435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janfives90/pseuds/Fives
Summary: The God of Flowers is not meant to concern herself with death.Here, though, walking through a field of daffodils with her arm tucked into the elbow of the God of the Dead, she is certain that anyone who believes such a thing is very, very wrong.





	1. to the travelers on the open road

The God of the Dead watches as a steel mill burns.

Mortals are rushing past her, doing whatever they can to put out the flames as they pull bodies from the wreckage.

Some are still alive.

Others are simply waiting for their train to arrive.

“You shouldn’t be here,” the God of the Forge says, appearing at her side in a burst of red hot fire. “They will come to you in time. It is not your place.”

“I’ve always wondered what they thought. In that moment right before life left them. I never found it polite to ask, but there must be a moment in which everything that you are condenses down to one final spark that’s extinguished.”

The God of the Forge shivers, his breath coming out as a cold mist.

“You should go home, Death God. You do not belong here.”

He walks into the burning mill, vanishing into the flames.

The God of the Dead waits for another moment, a soft spring breeze billowing her leather jacket.

She waits until another body is removed, alive, from the destruction.

Then steps back into shadow.

* * *

_The Gods have many names._

_They have names that mortals gave them during their highest worship. They have names lost to time. They have monikers, titles, pseudonyms murmured in fear and respect._

_They have names most would recognize as those of mortals, too. Ones chosen and changed at least once a century, identities that allow them to interact with the mortal plane without giving away what they truly are._

_The God of the Dead._

_The God of the Underworld._

_The God of Wealth._

_In this time, in this century, known to mortals as a name whispered in the darkness:_

** _Emma Nolan_ **

* * *

The God of the Dead stands in one of her favorite places in the entire mortal world.

A large field, surrounded by trees, filled with white and yellow daffodils.

She crouches in the loose soil, studying one of the yet-to-bloom buds as a gentle breeze brings the scent of lavender.

Lavender.

She doesn’t remember it being one of the plants in this field, but she doesn’t think too much on it, her focus pulled to the small snake slithering towards her.

“Hello, little friend.” She holds out her hand, letting the snake crawl up and curl comfortably around her arm, its head resting just above her elbow. She strokes the snake gently, a soft smile on her face. “You don’t fit in in a place like this, either, do you?”

Her focus shifts as she hears a shout of frustration coming from the direction of the road just beyond the trees.

Curious, she heads in the direction of the sound.

When she steps onto the road, she catches the scent of lavender again.

Then she sees the sleek purple car parked a few feet away.

Then she sees the woman standing next to it.

If she had a heartbeat, it would have stopped.

The weight of gravity feels like it’s shifting, she’s overwhelmed by that soft lavender, and it’s like her whole world has changed in that instance, and she doesn’t even realize it.

Emma takes in a pointless calming breath and walks forward.

“Excuse me,” she says, her voice quiet. “Is everything alright?”

The woman looks up at her, deep brown eyes that seem to slice straight through every fiber of Emma’s being. “Honestly, no. Not really.” She gestures at her car and takes a step back. “I’ve locked my keys inside. I was about to break in the window.”

“No need for that. I happen to be fairly handy with locks, if you’ll allow me?”

“By all means.” The woman glances down and raises an eyebrow. “Do you know that you have a snake on your arm?”

Emma blinks. “My tattoo?”

She doesn’t know how the woman could’ve seen it through her jacket.

“No, the live snake.”

She looks down, having all but forgotten entirely about the snake she had picked up earlier. “Oh. He was just catching a ride.”

She uncoils him carefully, carrying him to a nearby bush and letting him slither away underneath it. When she returns to the car, the woman is watching her, a strange note of intrigue in her eyes.

“Do you typically give taxi rides to reptiles?”

“Only snakes who ask politely.”

“How can you tell?”

Emma shrugs. “You just listen very carefully.”

The woman smiles. “I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

As the air shifts, just a little colder, Emma walks to the driver’s door. The woman shivers as she passes, the short sleeves of her bright blue dress leaving her bare arms to the chill of a March night.

Emma removes her jacket and holds it out to her.

“You look cold,” she says, in response to the woman’s curious look. “It’s the least I can do while I get this open.”

The woman nods and drapes the jacket over her shoulders. “Huh. You really do have a tattoo.”

“Oh. Uh. Yeah.” Emma looks down at her right forearm, visible in her black short-sleeve button-down.

In the orange glow of the setting sun, the black ink of the snake curled around a bident seems to flicker and shine.

“I think it suits you,” the woman says, in a way like she actually knows just how much the words might be true.

Like, somehow, she actually knows what Emma is.

“Thank you,” Emma says. She pulls a thin piece of white metal out of her pocket and holds it up for the woman to see. “I should have this open for you in no time. I’ve learned how to rig these things over the years. You wouldn’t believe how many keys I’ve lost.”

The woman grins and pulls Emma’s jacket tighter around her. “Perfect person to come to my rescue, then.”

“I’d like to think so.” She holds her hand over the door to hide the metal shifting and changing into a key made of ice cold bone. As she slides it into the lock on the car door, she says, “This is quite the lonely road to be stopped on. All there is to see is the daffodils, and they aren’t even in bloom yet.”

“Yes, but I still wanted to see them. I came here with two friends of mine, but they got bored far quicker and left.” The woman leans against her car, watching Emma pretend to work. “I like to visit flowers. Even when they’re not in bloom, they’re still so beautiful, don’t you think?”

“They have their charm. Not much difference between a flower that hasn’t bloomed and a weed, I suppose, which makes one wonder why humanity hates the latter so much.”

The woman scoffs dismissively. “A weed is merely a flower that nature put in a place humanity finds inconvenient.”

Emma opens the door and slides the key back into her pocket before the woman can see its change. “Is a dandelion your favorite flower, then?”

“Perhaps,” the woman replies, amusement in her eyes. “I am also partial to lilies.”

“I’ll have to keep that in mind,” Emma says as the woman straightens back off of the car and takes a small step backwards. “Is there anything else I could do for y… ou…”

She trails off, speechless, as the woman raises her arms, and the flowers along the side of the road burst into bloom.

“Oh,” Emma whispers, when her mouth finally catches up to her brain.

“It’s admirable, hiding your abilities from mortals. I’m just not one of them.” The woman smiles and lowers one arm, hold out the other to Emma. “Alyssa, God of Flowers.”

“My deepest apologies.” Emma gives a small half-bow, pressing a soft, quick kiss to the back of Alyssa’s hand. “Emma, God of the Underworld.”

“I thought you might be,” Alyssa murmurs, letting her hand linger in Emma’s grip until they both let it drop. “Does the Underworld smell of woodsmoke too?”

Emma pauses.

Her brothers have always said that she smells of charcoal.

Every other god she has ever met has been overwhelmed by the sharp icy coldness of a winter evening, the kind that could steal breath away from even one who had no breath to give.

Alyssa, God of Flowers, is something else entirely.

“I believe it is different for different people. For me, it’s just home.”

Alyssa studies her, eyes sharp and intelligent, a gaze that Emma instinctively knows could tear her apart if it wanted to.

“Tell me,” Alyssa says, her voice soft. “What is the God of the Underworld doing on a lonely road like this?”

Emma pauses, uncertain, until the breeze brings the lavender back to her. She holds out her hand. “I could show you?”

Alyssa watches her for another moment.

Then reaches out, and sets her hand in Emma’s.


	2. you could reach the edge in me

The God of Flowers is familiar with death.

Each year, each season, the gardens of Earth cycle through life and death, growing and aging and starting over.

She feels each loss, but she does not mourn them.

They have roles to play, slots in the motion of nature, and she would never want them to change. Life becomes life, and the dead, of all sorts, are taken care of by the Gods.

She told her mother of this, once, and she decided quickly never to tell anyone again.

The God of Flowers is not meant to concern herself with death.

Here, though, walking through a field of daffodils with her arm tucked into the elbow of the God of the Dead, she is certain that anyone who believes such a thing is very, _very_ wrong.

She has known of the Dominion Trio since the moment of her creation. They are known to not be as cruel or violent as the trio that came before them, but their power marks them as beings feared even amongst other Gods.

_Thunder, arrogant and angry._

_Sea, careless and stubborn._

_Death, selfish and untrustworthy._

She is not sure she believes her mother’s claims.

* * *

“You haven’t explained it yet.”

“Explained what?”

“What a Death God would be doing in a field of flowers.”

Alyssa feels the flinch, a physical jolt that runs straight from Emma’s body into hers.

“Please,” she says softly, “don’t call me a Death God. I am not the God of Death; I am the God of the Dead. There’s a difference.”

There is irritation, just a hint, but it does nothing to hide the sadness in her voice.

“I’m sorry,” Alyssa murmurs. “I don’t believe I’ve heard of one before. Could you explain it?”

Emma lifts up a tree branch, holding it out of Alyssa’s way to lead her down a thin forest path. “I am the God of the Underworld, ruler of the kingdom of the dead. I do not bring about death, nor do I guide souls. My job is to protect – or guard – them once they get to my domain.”

“I’ve never known that. Or, perhaps, I’ve never thought to ask.”

“Few do. It is a common assumption. I hold it against some, but I won’t hold it against you.”

Alyssa smiles. “And why is that?”

“Well.” Emma clears her throat and brings her free hand up to adjust the knot of her black tie. “Do you smell lavender? I’ve been picking it up for a little while now, but I don’t recall there ever being any in this area.”

The plants and flowers and vegetation reach out to her like a vibration she can feel deep within her skin, each one unique to itself.

“There’s no lavender here. I can tell.” Alyssa squints, curious. “You pay attention to the kinds of plants?”

“I’m hardly an expert. I just like learning.” Emma looks up at the sky, closing her eyes as the breeze brushes past them. “Don’t you?”

Truthfully, she hasn’t put much thought into it.

She does, now, and she knows almost immediately what her answer is.

“I do. I just don’t get the chance to learn about some of the things that I’m curious about.”

“Such as?”

Alyssa laughs and pulls away, walking ahead down the path and bringing some of the trees around them to full bloom. “You first.”

She turns and sees Emma watching her, awestruck.

“Emma?” Alyssa prompts.

“Huh?”

“You cannot keep avoiding my questions forever.”

Emma pauses.

And then vanishes.

Alyssa stares, surprised and unsure.

She smells woodsmoke, then hears Emma’s voice directly behind her. “We have eternity. If I wanted to, I could find a way.”

Alyssa whirls around, but there’s nothing behind her.

She blinks, and Emma is standing there, grinning.

“I apologize. It was too good of an opportunity to pass up.”

“You can… You can be invisible to _other gods?”_

“Yes.” Emma pauses, and Alyssa watches the teasing amusement die on her face. “I-I… I’m sorry. I know it’s disturbing, I simply-”

“It’s interesting,” Alyssa interrupts.

“I… _what?”_

She looks dumbfounded, as if the mere concept of anyone taking the slightest interest in anything she can do is a completely foreign idea to her.

Alyssa thinks back, to her mother telling her that the God of the Dead was not to be trusted.

The God of the Dead is supposed to stay, alone, in the Underworld where she belongs.

Emma’s confusion is less and less surprising the longer Alyssa thinks about it.

“I want to know why you are in the mortal plane because I am _curious,_ Emma, not because I take issue with it,” Alyssa says quietly.

When she sees relief shift into Emma’s hazel eyes, she knows that her guess is right.

“The God of the Underworld helped a random woman with her car and gave her a jacket to fight off the evening chill, after spending time enjoying some flowers. I have to wonder what brought it about.”

Emma offers her arm again, and Alyssa takes it so they can continue their walk.

“Death and life are not opposites. Death is simply the conclusion of a life. A soul moving on to the Underworld is not about two mirrored halves of one journey. It’s one journey that ends and leads to another.”

“A flower decaying into the Earth and giving energy for a new sprout to grow.”

Emma smiles at her, almost excited, and it lights a fire deep within Alyssa’s chest. “That’s an excellent way of describing it. The essence of the original is there, but they are not the same. Evil souls receive their punishment, good souls receive their reward, those in the middle simple exist in peace.”

“And that leads to fields?” Alyssa asks, teasing.

“I’ll get there.” Emma pauses. “For a very long time, I only saw the second journey. I’ve always wondered what made up the first. Mortals intrigue me, you see. They look like us, but they have such little time on this plane, and they experience the world far differently than we do.” She glances at Alyssa. “As for the field, well, daffodils have always been a flower associated with _me,_ darling. Surely the God of Flowers would know such a thing?”

“All flowers are mine. The rest of you just rent them out for special occasions.”

Emma laughs, and her voice suddenly raises from the soft tone she has been keeping.

Alyssa met one of the Dominion Trio, once, over a decade ago. One of Emma’s brothers, a tall man who beamed and laughed easily, who had been wearing a swimsuit on a snowy mountaintop.

His voice, at the normal volume used by the average person, had held a strange undertone, almost a faint rumble or vibration, as if the power inherent to him could not be contained.

When his sister laughs, she sounds exactly the same.

“Okay,” Emma says, her voice lowering again. “It’s your turn.”

Alyssa winces. “You’ll make fun of me.”

“I doubt that.”

“I…” She drops to a whisper. “I am curious about death.”

Emma stops in her tracks, a motion that pulls Alyssa to a stop as well.

Alyssa gives another wince. “I know. I know I am not the god who should be-”

“What is it that you wish to know?”

It takes her by surprise, how _genuine_ Emma sounds.

She actually wants to answer, for the first time in centuries someone wants to talk about this with her, and it strikes her, the comparison.

Emma, the God of the Dead, an outsider, who wants to know more about life.

Alyssa, the God of Flowers, a bringer of life, who wants to know more about death.

The sun is setting over Alyssa’s back, and the light reflects in Emma’s eyes as she looks at her.

Behind the hazel, deep within, she swears she can see the glow of fire.

“I want to know everything,” she murmurs.

“I can do my very best.”

Alyssa smiles, and tightens her grip on Emma’s arm, and allows her to continue to lead.

* * *

They talk.

They talk,

they talk,

they _talk._

Everything and nothing. Life and death. Light and dark.

Woodsmoke and lavender.

It’s pitch dark as they sit on the edge of bridge overlooking a set of train tracks, watching a zeppelin cross the sky above.

“It’s so nice like this,” Alyssa whispers. “Just talking to another god, one who doesn’t…” She shrugs. “There is a lot that ends up expected of me or demanded of me. My mother is overprotective.”

“Your mother?” Emma leans closer, frowning. “I have not heard a god speak of parents in… likely since my brothers and I banished our own.”

“I know it is not common, but my mother is particularly… _attentive_.”

“Hm.” Emma picks up a stone and tosses it into the air, changing it into a piece of gold before it drops back down. “Do I know her?”

“I am not sure. She is the God of the Harvest.”

Emma groans. “She is a pain in the ass is what she is. No offense.”

“Believe me, none taken. But why?”

“Little known fact, my domains also include Riches and Hidden Wealth, which also encompasses fertile soil. You reward _one_ village with a season of agricultural abundance, and do you think the Harvest God is happy with you? No. She spends two hundred years dumping wheat grain on the entrance to The Underworld as a passive-aggressive lecture on the balance of nature.” Emma rubs the back of her neck. “Are you sure your mother isn’t also God of Vengeance?”

“It’s quite possible, and I just don’t know it.”

“I’ve explained so much about the main thing you didn’t know, Alyssa,” Emma says. “I find it hard to believe there’s anything left for you not to know.”

Alyssa laughs. “I am not the God of Wisdom. Trust me. I know her.”

“You don’t have to be.” Emma rests her weight back on her hands and looks at the moon directly above them. “We live for eternity. What is the point if we don’t absorb everything we can?”

She feels the question start to form around her tongue, and she tries desperately to hold it back.

She fails.

“Could I see the Underworld?” she blurts out.

“…What?”

“I… I’d like… I know that gods can go in and out of the Underworld. I just want to know what it’s like.”

Emma stares at her, softness in her gaze. “You really want to do that?”

She can’t even begin to describe how much.

“Yes,” Alyssa whispers.

Emma pauses, the careful thought process playing out on her face. She settles on a calm, confident expression, and holds out her hand.

Alyssa takes it.

And Emma raises her other hand, and snaps her fingers.

* * *

They’re on a train car.

Soft, dark red seats, silver and wood detailing, black floors.

The conductor’s compartment is right in front of them, the door open, a thin figure in the seat.

No. Not a thin figure.

A _skeleton._

It makes a sound, a hissing, breathy, garbled noise, and Emma just gives a nonchalant wave.

“Hi, Ron.”

She sits down in one of the seats without another word.

Alyssa sits next to her, staring at the back of the skeleton’s skull. “Uhm.”

“He’s in a mood. Sometimes he looks like this, sometimes he has a hood up and just looks creepy.”

“But where… are we?”

Emma leans back in her seat and closes her eyes. “Ferry to the Underworld, updated for the times. That’s the Acheron out the window.”

Alyssa squints out the window next to Emma and gapes at the huge, thrashing, dark water below her.

“This is how you go to and from the Underworld? Every time?”

“I have other ways, but if someone else is coming this is the easiest.” Emma smirks. “Plus, I enjoy showing off my train.”

Alyssa pushes her, just a little, and smiles when Emma closes her eyes again and grins.

* * *

_Glow._

It’s the first word Alyssa can think of.

The Underworld _glows._

And shines, and sparkles, and glitters.

The walls are made of rock and stone and dirt, like a giant mine or cave, and they are lined with dozens and dozens of ores of gold, silver, platinum, and copper.

She’s walking on quartz, different colors and shades scattered together across the surface.

“It’s not much.”

Alyssa turns to Emma, bewildered. She’s standing at the base of the railroad platform, her hands in the pockets of her black pants, her black dress shoes scuffing aimlessly against the ground.

“Emma. This place is _beautiful.”_

“You think so?”

“I know so. Could use some more flowers, though.”

They both smirk, and Emma shakes her head and rolls her eyes.

She leads Alyssa down a small path, lit with soft pale purple flame.

“I wanted it to be as welcoming as possible, regardless of a soul’s destination. No matter who they were in life, they still end up at that station in the first few moments of their death. There is no reason to make it gloomy for them.”

Alyssa squints at the ground as a twisty, smoky form starts to weave in and out of Emma’s legs as she walks. It’s small, four-legged, the general shape of pointed ears where a head would likely be.

“What is that?”

“Skia. She’s my spooky cat. She’s not really a cat, but it’s the best thing to refer to her as.” Emma pauses. “You know, I never did figure out what she is.” She shrugs. “Spooky cat.”

“You know,” Alyssa says, as they walk into what appears to be a small private area, a long table surrounded by various shelving units, “I don’t think that anyone who has claimed you to be a terrifying Death God has spent even three minutes in your presence, have they?”

“I’m a lot angrier when I’m trying to come to agreements with my brothers, in fairness. And I’m a lot more easy-going around beautiful women who don’t yell at me for going outside.” Emma shoots a grin over her shoulder.

The heart Alyssa doesn’t use flips over.

“I will keep that in mind.”

Emma walks to a tall shelf near the table, lined with bottles of varying sizes and colors. She picks one up and absentmindedly waves her hand, and two wine glasses appear on the table.

“The items on those shelves over there are ones too rare or important or dangerous to be kept in the mortal plane,” she says as she pours a red liquid into the glasses. “It was a _very_ long argument, but it was eventually decided to keep most of them here. Other than gods, almost no one can get into the Underworld and then get back out.”

“A few have?” Alyssa prompts, her eyes scanning some of the items, old and new and ancient.

“Yes. I don’t make it a priority to punish people for mourning their lost loved ones, but I also do not take kindly to fools. They can have a chance. They had better use it.”

Emma leans against the table and holds one of the glasses out to Alyssa.

Alyssa walks over, and takes it.

The drink tastes like honey and apples, and it warms away any remaining chill from their nighttime walk.

She shrugs off Emma’s jacket and carefully lays it on the table.

“What is this? I’m not familiar with it.”

“A specialty from the God of Wine. He owed me a favor.”

“Hm. Maybe you should owe him one back. It’s incredible.”

Emma takes a sip and then sets her glass down on the table next to her. “I am not particularly a fan of owing anyone anything.”

“Neither am I.” Alyssa squints. “I suppose I _do_ owe you for unlocking my car, though I was about to just grow a vine through the window.”

She makes a decision in the split second between her words and the brief glance Emma takes at her lips.

It is, perhaps, not a decision she should make.

“I think I would’ve enjoyed seeing that,” Emma says.

Alyssa places her own glass down, then rests her hands on the table, bracketing on either side of Emma’s hips.

She can see the moment the realization clicks into Emma’s eyes.

“You shouldn’t, Alyssa,” she whispers. “You’re spring. Happiness and life and the earth starting anew.”

Alyssa leans in, just a little. “Spring also brings back predators. And autumn? Autumn resets the earth for the start of the next cycle. Neither can be without the other.”

She moves forward, a little.

“They _need each other._ Wouldn’t you agree?”

Emma watches her, the flickering glow in her eyes again.

Neither of them knows who closes the space.

One moment, they are just standing, too close, Alyssa trapping Emma against the table.

The next, one of Alyssa’s hands is in Emma’s hair, the other is at her hip, and they’re kissing as if they aren’t immortal, as if their very lives depended on it.

There’s a spark.

It feels like a magic neither of them recognizes, a burning pulse of _need_ and _heat,_ and something else Alyssa can’t possibly begin to describe.

Electricity is in her spine, her heart is pounding even though it can’t, she-

She needs more.

She needs _more._

Emma’s hands are hot on her back, they’re pulling her in close, and every time one of them moves their touch somewhere else it’s like the space they left behind has been dunked straight into ice water and frozen.

She needs _everything._

Alyssa tugs on Emma’s shirt to untuck it, and Emma responds by pushing off of the table, catching her by the waist and backing her towards one of the offshoot hallways.

Her body is tingling, she can barely even move, and she can feel the trembling effort behind every step Emma takes.

There’s a bed in a small room, sheets pulled neat and tidy, and Alyssa turns their position so she can shove Emma onto it.

Something is different.

She gets onto the bed, on top of Emma, and they stare at each other for a small moment, unsure why they’re both breathing so hard. It occurs to Alyssa that if she tried to _stop_ breathing, the overwhelming energy would be forced to sit in her head instead.

She keeps breathing.

The pause breaks almost as soon as it started, and Alyssa remembers to go to Emma’s tie before her shirt.

Something is _different._

And neither of them knows what it is.

* * *

Alyssa climbs out of bed while Emma is still asleep.

She gives a lazy snap of her fingers as she walks back out into the shelving room, and she barely acknowledges the plain, light pink dress that forms on her body.

Her glass is still on the table, but it’s empty.

She knows she didn’t drink it. Knowing the God of Wine, it probably disappears if you haven’t within a certain time period.

Alyssa picks up her glass and goes to the shelves of bottles.

On the lowest shelf, on its side, is a bottle of red liquid.

“Spooky cat must’ve knocked you over,” she mumbles.

She pours herself a glass and returns the bottle, upright, to the lower shelf.

As she walks back towards Emma, she lifts the glass, and takes a sip.

Alyssa is struck by the sudden scent of woodsmoke.

And the taste of pomegranate.


	3. feels like you're going under

_The Gods do not need to sleep._

_They do not need breath, or food, or drink._

_Their hearts do not beat._

_It is rare that they bleed._

_Mortal mechanisms exist within them only as hobby._

_Breath to channel emotion._

_Food and drink for social courtesy._

_Sleep as way of resetting. Regaining oneself after battle, or magic, or emotional upheaval._

_Sleep to hide, just for a little while, from the reality of eternity._

* * *

Emma leans against the solid rock of her headboard, absentmindedly adjusting her tie.

She sits on the fresh-made bed, back in her all-black socks, pants, button-down, and tie.

The Underworld is quiet.

“Do you ever wear anything other than black?”

Alyssa stands in the opening of the room, glass in hand, watching her.

“Not usually. Might as well continue the aesthetic.”

She crosses the room and sits down on the bed, close enough that she’s touching Emma’s hip. “You should change your tie. If anything, the pop of interest in the middle of the darkness will be closer to what I saw when we got off that train.”

Emma chuckles. “Are you the God of Fashion now? What color should I choose?”

“No to the fashion.” Alyssa sets her hand over the pocket on the right side of Emma’s shirt. When she lifts it, there is a perfect, vibrant purple flower tucked neatly into the fabric. “That for the color.”

“What is it?”

_“Viola odorata._ They’re known to be one of those ‘uninvited guests’ that I have affection for.” Alyssa brushes her fingers over the knot of Emma’s tie. “Plus, it’s funny, because the violet is also said to be representational of both modesty and lust.”

Emma snorts. “How fitting.”

She runs her hand over her tie, tactfully avoiding contact with Alyssa, and the fabric shifts to match the flower’s color.

“There. You look nice.”

Emma’s gaze travels to the light pink dress Alyssa is wearing.

She snaps her fingers, and it changes to a deep maroon with silver accents.

Alyssa looks down, startled. “What…”

“If you are going to critique my color palette, I think it’s only fair for me, as God of Wealth, to recommend a fancier outfit for you.”

“Is that so?”

Alyssa leans in, grinning, and Emma feels a prickly sensation on her skin.

Emma starts to answer, when Alyssa takes another sip from the glass in her hand.

She pauses.

Something feels _off,_ and she can’t quite place what it is.

It can’t be last night; it doesn’t track.

She’s a god. Sex is a casual hobby to a god.

“Emma? Are you okay?”

She shakes her head.

Swallows.

And nods.

“I’m fine. I think. Just felt a little off.”

“I felt that, too. Drinking hasn’t even helped much.” Alyssa frowns down at the liquid in her glass. “Though, I’m not sure… This doesn’t taste the same as what we had yesterday.”

Emma’s stomach drops. “What?” She takes the glass from Alyssa and brings it to her lips.

The moment the wine hits her tongue, she chokes and lowers the glass.

No.

Oh, no.

She climbs out of the bed with the glass still in her hand, her shoes forming on her feet before they hit the ground.

“It can’t be that,” she mumbles. “That’s not possible. They couldn’t have…”

Alyssa stands, worried.

…She doesn’t _look_ worried.

Emma can just feel it.

“Shit,” Emma whispers.

“What’s going on? What is it?”

“I… Alyssa, where did you get this? I need you to tell me right now where you got this.”

Alyssa takes a step closer.

“The bottom shelf out there. It was the only one down where you had set the one we were drinking. It was knocked over, but I assumed your cat did that.”

A sense of foreboding settles over Emma’s shoulders.

She watches as it reflects in Alyssa’s eyes and makes her shift uncomfortably.

“Emma,” she whispers. “What’s happening?”

“I-I… I think it was knocked over… but from one of the top shelves. I put the wine back after I filled our glasses.”

Alyssa swallows.

“And… what is it that I drank? Will it…”

“It won’t hurt you,” Emma reassures, stepping closer, setting the glass down on a nearby table to get it out of her hand. “It can’t. Believe me, Alyssa, I am the God of the Dead, and there truly is nothing that can kill a God.”

Alyssa swallows again. “I believe you. Because I… I-I can feel that you’re being honest with me. And I can feel that you’re terrified.” She takes in a shaking breath.

“Emma, why can _I_ feel what _you’re_ feeling?”

She wants to lie.

She wants to put Alyssa on that train and send her back to the mortal plane.

Hope beyond hope that it isn’t true, that they’ll be able to fight it, that everything will sort itself out if they just ignore it.

She doesn’t want to have to put Alyssa through this.

The _fear_ vibrating into her changes her mind.

“My brothers and I do not talk much about our parents.”

“You said you banished them.”

“We did. Because they were… cruel. In ways that I would be terrified to describe to you right now.”

They stabbed her through the chest and left her pinned to the wall of the council hall as a message to her brothers, but that is a story for a less emotional day.

“My father was the God of Magic before the current one. He could do almost anything, but he _loved_ curses. My mother was the God of Poisons. You can likely see how they would get along.” Emma gives a dry smile, and Alyssa gives a small nod.

“I do not know how minor gods created three as powerful as we are. I am not sure I even wish to know. But we were created to take our dominions in the names of our parents.”

She hears a small intake of breath, and Alyssa’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly.

“For what? Power?”

“Power. Control. More opportunities to play games with mortals. Why does a cruel god do anything?” Emma turns, finding a vein of gold in the wall to stare at. “We knew we could not change what we were. We had responsibility. But we could alter what our parents wanted. So we went to war with them. Head to head, it would not have been a long fight. Overpowering them would have been simple. It was getting to that ultimate confrontation that was the difficult part.”

“They hid,” Alyssa murmurs. “They knew they couldn’t fight you, and they knew they could no longer use you, so they hid.”

“Subterfuge. Mockery. Attacks too quick to be defended against. Traps. We ended it all eventually, but they left each of us with something else. Curses that they knew would get us turned into monsters by the other gods.”

She hesitates.

She’s afraid.

She’s not sure if it’s Alyssa’s fear… or her own.

“There was a pomegranate tree out near the station,” Emma whispers. “Its fruit was cursed. I destroyed it all, but as we banished him my father swore to us that he had taken our curses and hidden them throughout our domains. That we would find them when we least expected it, and we could never escape them.”

The realization seeps into her body, and she turns to see Alyssa staring at her, jaw slack.

In a murmur, she says, “The pomegranate.”

“Yes.”

“Do you know what it does?”

“That’s the cruel irony of it all. It was never meant to hurt us, at least not directly. It was _meant _to be on someone else.” Emma walks forward and stops, far enough away that Alyssa doesn’t feel boxed in.

“Alyssa. What you drank… It links you to the Underworld.” She swallows. “It links you to _me.”_

Confusion.

Shock.

Understanding.

Uncertainty.

The whirlwind of emotions almost forces Emma to sit down, but she stays where she is, meeting Alyssa’s gaze as calmly as possible.

“What does that mean? How long does that last?”

She can’t stop the humorless smile. “We are immortal, Alyssa. How long do you think?”

“…Oh.” Alyssa sits down on the edge of the bed.

“As for what it _means,_ I am not completely certain, but from what I was able to figure out, it… your time outside of the Underworld will be limited, as mine is. Spend longer than about a week at once in the mortal plane, and you will suffer for it.”

She dares a few steps closer, kneeling down in front of Alyssa in the hopes of not coming off as threatening.

She is not sure that it works.

“I am not saying that to scare you,” she whispers. “I want to warn you. That is what happens to me. I am bound to this place, too, Alyssa. We cannot escape it. We are the only gods who do not have such a luxury.”

“So I’m… here. This is where I am now.”

“Yes. And, uh… the Underworld will likely respond to you now, as it responds to me. Summon the train, navigate it without worry, sense its magic. It is a part of you.”

The turmoil is ripping her apart, it’s unbearable, and she reaches out to Alyssa in an attempt to make it stop hurting.

She touches Alyssa’s hand, clenched on her knee.

Everything stops.

And goes silent.

And then Alyssa meets her gaze and chokes out, “You feel so guilty. Do you really blame yourself so much?”

Emma bows her head. “How can I not?”

“I am the one who opened that bottle, Emma.”

“Yes. But I should not have brought you here in the first place. You impress me, and I find you attractive, and I let that get the best of my judgment.”

She feels the anger just a moment before ivy twists out of the ground, pushing her into a standing position as Alyssa gets to her feet.

_“I_ chose to come here,” Alyssa growls. “I _wanted_ to come here. If you wish to feel guilty, you can go ahead. But do not patronize me.”

“I would never wish to do that,” Emma says, twisted uncomfortably, the ivy spun around her legs and chest and holding her at an awkward angle. “All I want is to make this right, even if there’s no good way for me to even try.”

Alyssa walks forward, and the ivy tugs Emma closer. “You say that there is no way out. It might be a better use of our _eternity_ if we learn how to handle that instead of hiding from it.”

“I’d love to figure it out. I’d also love to know how you’re not panicking.”

“I _am_ panicking! You can _feel_ it!”

She can.

She thought it was hers.

Alyssa grabs the collar of Emma’s shirt. “Please. Please, I just need you to talk to me about this. I need you to _talk to me,_ Emma, not bury the emotions in history and presumed fact.”

She thinks about it.

And decides against it.

“I need some air,” Emma murmurs.

“What-”

Emma gently Alyssa’s hands off of her as the ivy shrivels to nothing at her feet.

She can feel Alyssa’s terror mirror her own as she steps back and vanishes into the shadows.


	4. a burden you cannot hide

_The emotions of Gods are fickle things._

_For some, they can be tempered, hidden, controlled as strongly as they control their abilities._

_For others, they are handled as poorly as those of mortals._

_The main problem for them is, they have all the time in existence to suffer the consequences._

* * *

Alyssa paces in the Underworld, drinking another glass of the wine that trapped her there.

After all, it’s not like it can trap her _more._

She can feel Emma’s emotions crying out to her from the distance between them, a dull agony of guilt and fear.

It _hurts._

More than she ever thought anything could hurt a god.

She closes her eyes, tries to shut it out, and finds a soft pull towards a different area of the Underworld. Alyssa follows it, desperate to keep Emma’s feelings out of her head, and her feet take her down a hallway much darker than the others, a thin passageway of stone with only a few lines of gold in the walls.

She nearly trips as Skia twists through her legs. “Dammit, spooky cat,” Alyssa mumbles. “Haven’t you done enough without knocking me over, too?”

The shadowy creature makes a loud vibrating sound, almost like an alarm, but Alyssa keeps walking towards the pull.

“What’s the matter, little thing?”

Emma told her that the Underworld would respond to her now. That she could navigate it. So why shouldn’t she trust the quiet urge in her brain?

Alyssa stops at the end of the hallway, where she comes upon a solid black metal door.

It calls to her. It whispers to her.

It _wants_ her.

She reaches out and touches the door knob, ice cold to her skin, and she pulls it open.

Darkness.

It’s nothing but the deepest darkness, one that presses out like an immense gravity on her soul, despair and grief and rage overwhelming her brain. It draws her in despite the weight, makes her take another step in spite of the icy cold choking in her throat.

There are tears pouring down her cheeks, and she doesn’t even remember starting to cry.

Before she gets any closer, the door slams shut, and warm arms wrap around her, squeezing tightly.

She’s gasping again for air she doesn’t even need, shivering and crying, and it takes her a while to realize that it’s Emma who’s holding her.

“It’s okay,” Emma whispers. “It’s okay. I know. It’s okay.”

“What is that place?” Alyssa asks, her voice trembling.

Emma’s hands move up and down her back, bringing warmth back into her skin. “Tartarus,” she says softly. “It’s where punished souls go. Not even a god can escape from there; if they’re put into it, they have to be let out.”

“It… I felt…. It was pulling…”

“I know.” Emma takes a step back and removes her leather jacket, putting it over Alyssa’s shoulders. “It does it to me, too. I’ve just gotten used to it.” She lowers her hands from Alyssa’s arms and bows her head. “I could feel you,” she murmurs. “I could feel you get scared, and I wanted… I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Alyssa puts her arms through the jacket and tugs it tighter around her body.

It smells like woodsmoke.

It smells like _Emma._

It scares her how her entire being settles just from that alone.

“You didn’t want that earlier.”

It’s not entirely fair, and she knows it. But she was left in the midst of her panic, and she’s not going to let the God of the Underworld off the hook that easily.

Emma winces, staring at the ground. “What am I supposed to do, Alyssa? What am I supposed to tell you? That I’ve gotten you stuck down here just like I am? That you’ve been cursed to spend eternity with the god barely even trusted by her own brothers?”

Standing there, watching Emma’s face, feeling the emotions spiraling between both of them, the realization suddenly clicks in Alyssa’s head.

She reaches out and takes Emma’s hand.

“Can we just talk?” she whispers. “Please? Not in this hallway, though, just…”

She’s barely finished her thought when the shadows close in around them, and when it clears, they’re standing at the top of a bridge at sunset.

“What…”

“I told you that I didn’t always need to use the train,” Emma says softly. She sits down on the edge of the steel platform, watching cars move below them.

Alyssa sits next to her and looks out at a steamship floating across the water. “Thank you.”

“You can probably learn how to do that, too. I’m not entirely sure what the link gives you and what it doesn’t in that sense.”

They watch the sunset in silence, and Alyssa feels Emma’s anxiety start to settle.

“You’ve been lonely for so long, haven’t you?” Alyssa says softly.

Emma gives a hesitant laugh and scratches the back of her neck. “I’m fine.”

“Come on.” Alyssa raises an eyebrow at her. “You know you can’t lie to me.”

The breeze shifts over them, cool in the growing darkness, and Alyssa pulls Emma’s jacket tighter around her.

“I…” Emma sighs and shakes her head. “I don’t really know anymore. I guess I just am what I am.”

“When was the last time you spoke to another god?”

“Just last week. I saw the God of the Forge at a steel mill fire.”

Alyssa gives a small nod. “Did you actually have a conversation, or did you just speak a few words in passing?”

Emma turns her head, away from her, and Alyssa feels embarrassment prickle out of her.

“Hey,” Alyssa whispers, taking Emma’s hand in hers. “Emma?”

“What?” Emma says quietly.

“I… I think I get it now.”

Emma looks at her, confused. “Get what?”

“Look, I… I’m scared, okay?”

She feels the guilt again, and she uses her free hand to catch Emma’s jaw before she can turn away.

“No. Don’t turn away from me again. Just listen.”

Emma swallows but doesn’t move, and Alyssa tries to ignore the fact that the _viola odorata_ she put in Emma’s shirt pocket, crushed slightly by her jacket and the hug she gave Alyssa earlier, springs back to proper life when they make eye contact.

“I’m scared, and I know you are too. I know you feel like this is your fault, but it’s _not._ You didn’t do this to me. To _either_ of us. You’ve been so disconnected from the other gods, so isolated down in the Underworld, so _distrusted_ that you’re taking this upon your own shoulders because…” Alyssa sighs. “I get it, okay, I get that the odds are very good that the other gods _will_ blame you.”

She feels fear, and it breaks her motionless heart.

“Why are you so afraid of them?” she asks in a whisper. “You’re more powerful than almost all of them, aren’t you?”

“I-I… I don’t _want_ to be hated, Alyssa,” Emma murmurs. “It’s exhausting. And besides, I… I know what my brothers and I did to our parents. I have no interest in sharing their fate.”

Alyssa feels a surge of protectiveness, and Emma’s eyes widen when it, no doubt, echoes in her own head. “I won’t let anyone do that to you. I won’t let you be punished for my own mistakes, and I won’t let you suffer for a trap your parents set just to be cruel.”

Emma swallows again, a bit paler than usual. “Why? You… You’d be free of me.”

She knows that at least a part of it is the magic talking.

Some of it is the curse.

But she can’t look Emma in the eye without knowing that whatever connection has been built between them is one she isn’t willing to surrender, not yet.

“I think, at least for now, I’d rather see what it’s like to be part of the Underworld. If that’s okay with you?”

Emma nods, looking a little stunned.

Alyssa leans in and presses a gentle kiss to Emma’s lips, a kiss that Emma returns.

“Wait,” Alyssa mumbles.

She has to grip Emma’s jaw to keep her from panicking and jolting backwards.

“It’s just a question,” Alyssa says with a soft laugh. “Relax.”

“Mhm,” Emma says nervously.

“If we’re… _linked_ now, and you’re the ruler of the Underworld, what does that make me?”

Emma stares at her for a long moment, and Alyssa almost laughs when the reflected emotions are so scrambled that she can’t even decipher them.

“U-Uhm… You can… You can be whatever you want to be.”

“That’s a dangerous offer, God of the Dead.”

Emma rubs the back of her neck, blushing in spite of herself. “It’s not one I’ve ever thought to offer before, I’ll admit, God of Flowers.”

“All I had to do was drink cursed wine to become that special?”

She’s surprised by the softness in Emma’s eyes when she whispers, almost inaudible, “No.”

They just stare at each other, darkness starting to settle in the sky.

Alyssa uses her grip on Emma’s jaw to tug her forward and kisses her.

She can smell woodsmoke and lavender mixing around them, can feel a strange calm settle over them both, and the shadows swallow them again.

* * *

The God of the Harvest stands near a field, staring at an abandoned purple car.

“Daughter,” she whispers. “Where are you?”

She closes her eyes, reaching out through the earth, searching, seeking.

And feeling nothing.

Around her, trees die, plants wither, flowers wilt.

The God of the Harvest begins to despair.


	5. upon the lips of everyone

The God of the Dead feels like she’s among the living.

She runs a hand through her hair as she sits in bed, watching the God of Flowers sleep beside her.

There’s a pull between them neither of them can resist.

It’s baffling. Magnetic.

She knows what magic feels like, but what’s dragging them towards each other is different than any magic she’s ever experienced.

The God of the Dead looks up at the stone walls of the Underworld, where ivy and lilies and asphodel have been steadily growing along the lines of gold, silver, platinum, and copper.

In centuries, she has never seen magic like this.

* * *

Emma gives a quiet surprised groan as Alyssa suddenly throws herself into her with a yelp, rolling over her and knocking both of them off of the bed and onto the floor in a tangle of limbs and sheets.

“The… fuck is…” Emma sits up and rubs the back of her head, squinting at the other side of the bed. “Oh.” She sighs. “Kirby, couldn’t you have found a better time to introduce yourself?”

_“Kirby?”_ Alyssa repeats, her voice adorably high-pitched. She grabs at Emma’s shoulder and stares at the massive three-headed dog that’s standing on the other side of the room, panting and watching them with curious black eyes. “That thing has a _name?”_

Emma frowns at her, feeling the fear vibrating off of her. “Haven’t you ever seen an Underworld monster before?”

“Not up close,” Alyssa says, her voice soft.

“He’s not going to hurt you. Especially not now you’re linked to me.” Emma glances down at Alyssa’s body, then snaps her fingers, putting them both in soft casual clothing.

The action draws Alyssa’s attention away from the dog, and she turns her head to look at Emma.

There’s something underneath her anxiety, something Emma can’t quite focus on.

It’s soft, gentle.

It would take Emma’s breath away if she had any.

Alyssa presses a kiss to Emma’s cheek, then looks back at the dog. “What is it?”

“Cerberus,” Emma replies. She stands up, taking Alyssa’s hand to pull her to her feet beside her. “The guard dog of the Underworld.” She glances over her shoulder. “Kirby. Stealth?”

The dog turns to shadows and shrinks, and when he reforms he’s the size and shape of a normal dog.

Well, as normal as a dog that seems to be a mix of a mastiff and a Rottweiler with particularly large shoulders.

“Come here, Kirby.”

Emma sets a hand on the small of Alyssa’s back, feeling her tense.

The tension only eases as the dog gets closer, head bowed, and Alyssa tentatively sets her hand in his thick black fur.

“I… I didn’t realize he’d be so soft,” Alyssa whispers.

Emma sets her hand on top of Alyssa’s. “He can sense what you’re feeling,” she murmurs in Alyssa’s ear. “He knows when you’re scared.”

“Oh.” Alyssa crouches down to eye level with the dog. “I’m… I’m sorry. You’re just… You’re so big, and you startled me.”

Kirby stares at her for a long moment, his black eyes bright. After a pause, he nudges his nose against Alyssa’s cheek and licks her, then he turns and pads off down a hallway.

Emma laughs as Alyssa makes a face and rubs at her cheek. “That’s a strong stamp of approval, believe me.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Alyssa stands and leans against Emma. “I enjoyed last night. For the God of the Dead, you’re a lot of fun.”

Emma clears her throat, her face feeling hot, and there’s a spark of nervousness that she’s not sure the origin of.

Alyssa laughs. “It’s so easy to make you flustered. Is it just me, or are you truly like that?”

“Bit of both, I believe.”

“Hm. I wish the other gods understood that.”

Emma feels it again, an overwhelming energy and overpowering need, and she sees the same reflected in Alyssa’s eyes.

The desire for more.

_More._

Before she can think through trying to fight it, Alyssa’s fingers are in her hair, and they’re kissing again, Emma sinking down until her back is pressed into the mattress.

“We need to stop ending up like this,” Emma mumbles.

“Why?” Alyssa asks, her hands slipping under Emma’s black t-shirt.

“Mm. Something something responsibility.”

Alyssa laughs, her eyes bright as she rests her forehead against Emma’s. “Who will even notice that we’re gone?”

* * *

The God of the Harvest stands in the center of a destroyed wheat field.

“What have you done?” the God of the Sun asks, his voice low and serious.

“Nothing,” she replies. “And I will continue to do nothing until my daughter is returned to me.”

“Returned?”

“I have searched and searched the mortal plane. The God of Flowers is not on it. I cannot find her in the godly plane. I cannot find her in Olympus.” The God of the Harvest turns a cold gaze to the God of the Sun. “She was taken. Somewhere else. And if she is not returned, I will not allow the earth to return either.”

* * *

“This one is honey wine. I promise.”

Alyssa grins at Emma as she takes the glass from her. “I trust you.”

Emma pauses, watching Alyssa drink. “Why?”

“Hm?”

“Why do you trust me?”

They stare at each other for a moment, both thinking.

It’s a heavier question than they expected.

“I don’t know,” Alyssa admits. “It just feels right. I feel like I can trust you with anything. I need to get used to this. I need to understand what my limits are outside of the Underworld. But I trust you to get me through it.”

Emma takes a sip of her own wine, keeping eye contact with Alyssa the whole time. “Well. I will certainly do my best to make you as happy as I can for all of eternity.”

Alyssa’s eyes soften. “What more can a god ask for?”

They both tense, turning to look towards the train station, a vibration of energy jolting through each of them.

“What is that?” Alyssa asks.

“The Underworld is telling us that a god is on the ferry. Do you…” Emma hesitates. “Do you want the other gods to know that you’re here yet?”

Alyssa bites her lip. “I… I’m not sure.”

Emma kisses her on the forehead. “Keep to the shadows. They’ll protect you. Not even another god – well, aside from me – will be able to see you through them if they’re responding to you.”

“Are you sure they will?”

She can feel the uncertainty, and Emma bumps their heads together. “You might not be someone like me, but you’re a far more powerful god than others might give you credit for. I can’t know for sure what will work and what won’t. But anything that you have access to, you can use. I’m sure of it.”

Alyssa nods. “Okay. Let’s try it, then.”

* * *

Emma stands at the base of the station, her arms folded, watching as the God of Messages steps into the Underworld.

“Trent. I haven’t seen you here in a few decades. What brings you here?”

He shudders, a cold breath coming from his mouth. “You need to turn up the heat in here,” he says with a strained laugh.

“Don’t often hear that said about hell,” Emma says dryly.

“Oh, but isn’t the Underworld more like-”

“Trent,” Emma interrupts. “Why are you here?”

“The Olympic Gods are meeting. The presence of the full Dominion Trio is requested.”

“What would we all need a meeting for?”

“The God of Flowers cannot be located.”

Emma keeps her expression neutral even as she feels Alyssa’s anxiety spike. “Oh? What does that have to do with me?”

She can see Trent’s eyes narrow, see his irritation, even through his discomfort with his current location.

“It involves all of us. We cannot take it lightly if one of our own goes missing. Who knows what could be happening?”

Emma scoffs, interlocking her fingers behind her back. “Fine. When is this meeting?”

“I assumed that you would be returning with me.”

“I don’t just jump when I’m called, God of Messages. Take one for me. Tell my brothers that I’ll attend their meeting, but I’ll arrive shortly. On my _own _terms.”

Trent gives a small nod. “Don’t make this harder on yourself than it needs to be, God of the Dead.”

“Same could be said for all of you.” Emma turns her back on him and walks towards the hallway where Alyssa is standing. “Tip Ron during your train ride back to the mortal plane.”

* * *

Emma sits on the table, staring down into her wine as Alyssa paces in front of her.

“Why are they so worried? It’s only been a few days! This is ridiculous!”

“Alyssa,” Emma says quietly.

“What?” She stops her pacing, giving her a wild look.

Emma lifts her gaze, trying to send her calm over to the other god. “When on the mortal plane, few things in the Underworld can be sensed. Our emotional connection carries over, and some of the summoning requests do as well, but many other things don’t. So if another god tried to find you…”

Alyssa’s eyes widen. “My mother.”

“That would be my bet.”

“Shit,” she mutters. “If she couldn’t sense me at all, it would be just like her to panic.”

“Wouldn’t you?”

“Maybe. I don’t know.” Alyssa takes Emma’s wine glass and drinks from it. “I don’t think I want to know what my mother will do to you when she finds out what’s happened.”

“Comforting.” Emma takes the glass back. “I could always just go there and lie to them. I don’t have a problem with doing that.”

Alyssa sets her hand on Emma’s cheek, and Emma feels determination settle into her. “No,” she murmurs. “We can’t hide this forever. It will be too suspicious, and if anyone finds out that we’re hiding it, they’ll assume the worst of you even more than some of them already will. We have to do this right.”

“If that’s what you want, that’s what I’ll do.”

Alyssa kisses her softly. “If we’re going to do this, we should appear as a united front. Even if we’re still figuring out what we feel about all of these, even if we’re still a little confused, we can’t show that to anyone.” She sets her hand against Emma’s shirt, just above her collarbone. “May I?”

Emma gives her a small nod, her eyes locked on Alyssa’s.

Alyssa snaps her fingers.

Emma’s dress shirt is still black, but now it has thin light purple stitching. Her tie matches the purple color, and her leather jacket remains black but becomes a bit more fitted. Her dress pants and socks stay the same, but her wingtips change to a two-tone, black with a purple accent across from one side of the arch to the other.

Alyssa’s clothes change to a knee-length dress, the same purple as Emma’s tie with accents of dark purple, the neckline low but not excessively so. She’s wearing a leather jacket as well, complementary to the one Emma is in, and her shoes are heels the dark purple of her dress’s accents.

“Oh,” Emma says quietly, looking between the two of them.

“Is this okay?” Alyssa asks.

Emma nods. “Just…” She reaches up and brushes her knuckles against the skin of Alyssa’s sternum, and Alyssa feels cool metal form there.

She looks down and sees a gorgeous silver and amethyst necklace resting around her throat.

“Oh,” she says, echoing Emma without even really thinking about it.

“Is that alright?” Emma asks in a whisper.

Alyssa nods and swallows. “It’s perfect.”

There’s a pause, a faint building of that pull within them as their eyes meet. Alyssa runs her fingers along Emma’s jaw, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips.

“I suppose we need to face the music,” she murmurs.

“Always did like a good funeral dirge.”

Alyssa grins at her. “The God of the Underworld has jokes?”

“I have plenty. Only certain people bother to get them.”

“Well, I’ll have to keep an ear out for them in the future.” Alyssa absentmindedly adjusts Emma’s tie. “Shall we go, then?”

Emma nods. She studies Alyssa’s expression for a moment, trying in vain to hide her nerves.

Then she kisses her, and snaps her fingers, and pulls them both to Olympus.


	6. i'll give you what you want

_Olympus._

_Central point of the godly plane, neutral meeting place of the gods._

_The more important, the most powerful, the ones known as the Olympic Gods, visit this place with regularity. Meet to discuss the circumstances affecting mortals, the circumstances affecting gods, the circumstances affecting all magic in the reachable universe._

_The God of Flowers is rarely at Olympus. Not important enough. Not powerful enough._

_Only brought when her mother or one of her friends feels like inviting her._

_The God of the Underworld is almost never at Olympus._

_By better logic, she should be among the Olympic Gods._

_By the logic of the Gods, she simply doesn’t belong._

* * *

Alyssa steps out of the shadows in an empty room, cold carved ebony and lines of silver ore.

The major gods each have private throne halls at Olympus where they can talk to other gods without disturbance, but she has never seen one other than that of her mother.

The throne hall of the God of the Harvest is warm, sunny, full of life and nature.

The throne hall of the God of the Underworld is lonely and empty.

“Is this really yours?” she asks in a whisper, watching Emma’s jaw tighten as she looks around.

“Yes,” Emma murmurs, her jaw tense. “I-I… I know it’s not much.” She pauses for a moment before facing Alyssa and taking her hands. “Before we face the others… could I…”

“What is it?”

Emma swallows, her grip on Alyssa’s hands gently tightening. “I don’t have much I can offer you. I can give you the entire Underworld if you want it, but that’s not exactly a prize. It’s not enough. It’s certainly nothing to promise for an eternity. But I promise you, God of Flowers. I promise you, Alyssa. I’ll do whatever I can to give you anything you want and everything you deserve. For the whole of our existence.”

There’s a heavy feeling in Alyssa’s chest, a sorrow she’s never experienced.

She’s not sure which of them it’s coming from.

“Emma,” she whispers, leaning forward and resting their foreheads together. “You don’t have to give me anything. I know we’re…” She bites her lip and shakes her head. “Linked sounds so cold. Especially when we both know what that really means.”

A blush curls up Emma’s neck to her ears, and she glances down at the floor. “I-I don’t…”

“Emma. It’s okay. You can say it.”

The God of the Dead stares at her, nervous, her body actually trembling when Alyssa sets her hands on her shoulders. In a quiet, shaky voice, she says, “You’re my wife.”

Alyssa gives her a soft look. “Yeah. I am. And you owe me nothing, Emma.” She kisses her gently. “We’re in this together.”

“We’re going to have to be.”

“I know.” Alyssa hugs her. “Should you go talk to them first?”

Emma shrugs. “It won’t make it any less uncomfortable for either of us. Might as well get it started.”

Alyssa winces. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

* * *

The meeting space of the gods is a shifting room, a location that changes size and shape depending on how many are involved in a debate.

Currently, all twelve of the Olympic Gods are arguing with each other, loud enough that it almost overwhelms Alyssa when she follows Emma through the gold and silver archway into the space.

Emma’s brothers, the two other members of the Dominion Trio; Nick, the God of the Sky, and Kevin, the God of the Sea.

Alyssa’s two closest friends; Kaylee, the God of Love, and Shelby, the God of Wisdom.

Dee Dee, the God of War.

Sheldon, the God of the Forge.

Trent, the God of Messages.

Angie, the God of the Hearth.

Barry, the God of Wine.

Hawkins, the God of the Sun.

Carrie, the God of the Moon.

And towards the back of the room, standing alone, silent amongst the chaos.

Mrs. Veronica Greene. The God of the Harvest.

Alyssa’s mother.

When Emma steps into the room, all conversation stops.

“Well,” Emma says quietly, reaching up and adjusting her tie. “I see this assembly hasn’t gotten any more welcoming in the last few decades.”

Nick takes a small step forward. “Sister,” he greets, hesitation in his voice. His gaze briefly flickers to Alyssa, but his expression doesn’t change. “It’s been a while.”

“It has.”

Mrs. Greene pushes past Nick, rushing for her daughter. _“Alyssa!”_

She hugs her tightly, and Alyssa blinks in confusion as she hugs her back. “Mother.”

Mrs. Greene pulls out of the hug and cups Alyssa’s face in her hands.

And the breath of the God of the Harvest mists between them.

She jolts away from Alyssa, horror in her expression, taking a few steps back.

Alyssa frowns. “Mother?”

“What have you done to her?” Mrs. Greene whispers. Poppy plants burst from the floor, wrapping around Emma’s legs and crawling up her body. They pull her against a nearby column, tangling her as Mrs. Greene turns to her and storms towards her. _“What have you done?”_

“Mother, she did nothing,” Alyssa protests, hurrying after her.

There’s a calm acceptance coming from Emma even despite the visible annoyance on her face, and it scares her.

Despite everything, despite the power and fire she knows the God of the Dead can have, despite what they’ve talked about, Alyssa is afraid that her guilt might make her accept whatever the other gods want to do to her.

She _will not_ let that happen.

“Now, wait a moment, Veronica,” Kevin says, standing next to Nick. “You can’t just-”

Mrs. Greene tightens her hand into a fist, and a few stems twist their way around Emma’s throat. “I can _smell_ the Underworld on my daughter. What. Have. You. _Done?”_

Anger surges through Alyssa, and she screams, _“Just stop!”_

The poppies holding Emma shrivel, die, and crumble to the ground as the room shudders.

“This is a _neutral space,”_ Alyssa snarls. “What is _wrong_ with you?”

Mrs. Greene just turns her head, watching silently as Alyssa goes to Emma, taking her face in her hands.

“Are you okay?” Alyssa asks softly, uncomfortably aware of how many people are staring at her.

Emma gives a tired nod, and Alyssa feels a gentle pulse of calm ebb from her.

“No,” Mrs. Greene whispers, shaking her head slowly. “No. You can’t.” She looks from Alyssa to Emma and back. “Alyssa. Please tell me you’re not… you’re not with _her.”_

“It’s not her fault,” Emma says quietly.

“Hush.” Alyssa rests her fingers against Emma’s lips. “I told you to stop taking the blame for this. I made my choices.”

Nick folds his arms across his chest, his expression unreadable. “Blame for what?”

Emma flinches, then lowers Alyssa’s hand as she looks at her brothers. She gives a small, helpless shrug. “The pomegranate.”

Kevin curses loudly and turns away, running a hand through his hair. Nick closes his eyes, his jaw tensing, clearly trying to stay calm even as a loud rumble of thunder shakes through the room.

“What does that mean?” Mrs. Greene demands.

Alyssa rests her hand on the collar of Emma’s jacket, idly brushing her thumb against her neck, attempting to keep her relaxed. “I was just… visiting… Emma.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Kaylee stifle a laugh behind her hand and get elbowed by Shelby.

“I took a bottle of wine and had a drink from it. It tasted of pomegranate. I didn’t realize the significance until it was explained.”

“It’s a curse,” Emma explains quietly. “One that links us together. Alyssa’s… She’s part of the Underworld now. I’m sorry; there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Dee Dee gives a loud scoff. “And why should we believe you? For all we know, you took her and messed with her and now you’re making up stories to cover for yourself.”

“Why would I do that?” Emma retorts.

Carrie shrugs. “Because you’re a monster just like everything else in the Underworld.”

Emma takes a small step backwards. “Don’t you think I know that?” she whispers. “If I could take this back, I would, but-”

Alyssa flinches. She grabs Emma’s hand before she can move away from her. “Enough,” she says softly. _“Enough._ I am not some spineless flower that can be controlled! I’m a god the same as the rest of you!”

“You are, honey,” Mrs. Greene says, a sickening amount of _pity_ in her voice. “But…”

“But _what?”_ Alyssa asks, cold.

Before Mrs. Greene can respond, Nick interrupts. “The curse is a real thing. Our parents hid one for each of us. I thought we had gotten rid of the one in the Underworld, but… it wouldn’t shock me if another existed.” He meets Mrs. Greene’s gaze steadily. “I’m sorry, God of the Harvest. If your daughter was taken by that curse, there’s nothing that can be done.”

“No,” Mrs. Greene says. She stomps towards Nick and prods him hard in the chest with one finger. “The three of you are meant to be the most powerful among us. You caused this mess. You _fix it.”_

“Look,” Kevin says calmly, separating his brother and Mrs. Greene, “why don’t you, and Nick, and Emma, and I go into my throne hall and talk this through? We’ll see if we can figure something out.”

Emma scoffs loudly. “Shouldn’t Alyssa have a say in things? It’s _her_ life.”

Mrs. Greene glares at her, shattering the rush of affection Alyssa feels for the God of the Dead. “She can’t make her own decisions anymore. Because of _you.”_

Alyssa shakes her head slowly. “Mother… Please…”

Mrs. Greene ignores her, following Kevin and Nick to an archway on the other side of the room.

“It’s okay,” Emma whispers, briefly squeezing Alyssa’s hand. “I’ll do my best to explain.”

Alyssa presses a kiss to her cheek. “I know you will.”

Emma gives a quiet sigh and follows her brothers, and Alyssa can feel her resignation growing with every step past the line of suspicious stares.

The moment Emma is gone, Alyssa leans against the wall, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Are you… Are you sure you’re really you?”

Alyssa looks up to find Kaylee and Shelby standing in front of her, watching her curiously. “I’m sure, Shelby.”

Shelby’s frowning. “But would you know if you were? I mean, how can you tell if whatever you’re feeling is really your feelings?”

“I suppose I can’t,” Alyssa admits. “But I do know that, real or not, Emma didn’t mean to do this to me.” She pauses, blushing a bit. “And I know that I chose to have sex with her long before I drank that wine.”

“Are you really saying that you got in this situation because you had _sex_ with the _God of the Dead?”_

Kaylee gives a sharp laugh and holds up a hand. “That’s awesome. High five.”

Shelby smacks her arm before a baffled Alyssa can oblige. “Seriously?”

“What?” Kaylee shrugs. “Now we’ve all slept with Dominion Trio gods. I think that’s an accomplishment.”

“I’m glad you have the right priorities here,” Shelby says, exasperated.

“I just…” Alyssa shakes her head slowly. “I wanted to have more time to figure things out before I tried to explain it all to my mother. I wish she hadn’t freaked out and gotten everyone involved, you know? I wasn’t gone that long.”

Shelby and Kaylee exchange a glance. “Alyssa,” Kaylee says slowly. “How long do you think you’ve been in the Underworld?”

Alyssa shrugs. “A few days. Why?”

Shelby’s jaw tightens. “Uhm… Alyssa…”

“What?” Alyssa frowns as she looks between their serious expressions. _“What?”_

Kaylee swallows. “The last time we saw you was months ago.”


	7. not what you wanted

_The God of the Harvest is harsh and unforgiving._

_There is no telling when a crop will meet a cruel and untimely end, when the earth will become barren, when the season will fail to produce what is necessary to survive._

_She has her moments of forgiveness, her moments of pity._

_She has her moments of true heart, of kindness and warmth and fairness._

_But she has no mercy in her soul for anyone who angers her._

* * *

“I need you to tell me how this happened, Em. In detail.”

Emma folds her arms across her chest, watching Nick pace across the turquoise floor of Kevin’s throne hall. “I’m not really sure I’d like to go into _full_ detail. Certain company might not appreciate it.” She gives a pointed look at Mrs. Greene, who’s leaning against the door and tapping her foot.

“If I find a way to kill you,” Mrs. Greene says through clenched teeth, “I will, Death God.”

“It’s not possible, but feel free to spend a few centuries out in the mortal plane looking,” Emma replies dryly.

“You can’t kill my sister,” Nick says, a warning tone in his voice as he glances at Mrs. Greene. “She’s a pain in the ass, but she’s still my sister.”

“And to make it clear, if you touch her, you’ll have to deal with _both_ of us,” Kevin says quietly, shifting his weight between his feet, staring coldly at Mrs. Greene.

Emma sticks her hands in her pockets, her face feeling hot. “I can take care of myself,” she mutters.

Neither of her brothers responds.

“Okay,” Emma sighs. “I met Alyssa in the mortal plane. We just talked for a while. Nothing untoward happened. She wanted to see the Underworld, so I took her there. We ended up… _involved._ And she poured herself a glass of a wine she thought was one we had been drinking. It… It wasn’t.”

“What was it?” Mrs. Greene asks, her voice cold.

“I didn’t have anything pomegranate in the Underworld after my father cursed it. But I tasted that wine, and that’s exactly what it was. I could _feel_ that something was different, something had changed. I know that’s what happened.”

“Our parents put traps for us,” Kevin explains, rubbing the back of his neck. “They were never meant to actually affect _us,_ though. Just turn other gods against us.” He gestures at Emma. “In my sister’s case, in particular, they wanted her to have someone connected to her, connected to the Underworld, because they knew that no one would ever trust that she hadn’t been the one to do it herself.”

“Which I would never do,” Emma snaps. “I would never hurt her.”

“Bullshit,” Mrs. Greene snarls. “You’re the God of _Death,_ a self-serving monster of the Underworld with no care for humanity and no care for other gods. Why should you care about my daughter beyond whatever _involvement_ she can do for you?”

The God of the Underworld prides herself on a remarkable amount of patience, even when she’s angry.

It doesn’t prevent the explosion of rage that barrels through her, hotter than any she’s felt in centuries.

“I am _the God of **the Dead**,”_ Emma says, her voice rumbling with the energy she typically keeps at bay as she takes a few steps towards Mrs. Greene. “Do not insult me, God of the Harvest, or you will regret it.”

“You cannot _threaten me,”_ she says in reply, closing the distance to meet her, glaring. “I do not fear you, Death God.”

“If you are going to continue to make such implications about the god who, by right of magic, is now my _wife,_ you should know that I have no interest in causing fear, but that does not mean I am not capable of it.”

She can feel Alyssa trying to push calm into her, she can feel her worry, but she tries to fight it off, her stubborn fury getting the best of her.

_“Enough!”_

A crack of lightning slams into the floor between Emma and Mrs. Greene, forcing them away from each other.

Nick takes off the red pilot’s cap he’s wearing backwards on his head and runs his fingers through his hair. “Enough,” he repeats, quieter.

“I came here as a courtesy, Nicholas,” Emma says, looking at him with dark eyes. “I’m not going to stand here on trial for something I didn’t do.”

She still feels guilty.

She still _wants_ to feel guilty.

But her pride won’t let her submit to _this._

“We know, Em,” Kevin murmurs. “We just want to figure it out. How do you know for sure that Alyssa is really part of the Underworld now?”

Emma blinks at him, confused. “I can feel it. I can feel _her._ Besides, parts of the Underworld that usually only call to me have been calling to her, too.”

“Have you tested how much time she can be in the mortal plane?” Nick asks.

“No?” Emma gives a strained laugh. “Look, it’s only been a few days, we’re still trying to sort everything out, we haven’t exactly had time to put together a diagram on everything that’s changed.”

Mrs. Greene’s shoulders slump in disbelief. Nick and Kevin exchange a glance, their eyes wide.

Emma frowns. “What’s up with you guys?”

“It’s been months, not days, Emma,” Nick says gently.

“I… What?” Emma shakes her head and rubs at her eyes. “No, that doesn’t make any sense. We were just… I mean, I know when gods are… _together…_ we can get a little carried away given the unlimited stamina…”

Nick clears his throat. “No need to clarify that further.”

“…And I know that time in the Underworld moves different sometimes, but… it… I’ve never… it’s usually not…” Emma takes a few steps backwards until she bumps into a large sapphire pillar. “Shit,” she whispers. “Shit. I-I can’t… I don’t…”

Kevin crosses the room to rest a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it gently. “Everything is going to be okay, Em.”

“Why don’t we do this? Can we agree on this?” Nick offers, setting his hat back on his head. “How about you let Alyssa back onto the mortal plane for a while, just by herself? If the effects of a curse to start to take effect, we’ll reevaluate the situation. If they don’t, we’ll have a better idea of what we’re dealing with.” He looks at Mrs. Greene. “Would that work for everyone?”

Mrs. Greene sniffs. “You really think my daughter will be allowed to exist in the mortal plane? Whatever that monster did to her probably made it impossible. There’s no way she’ll be able to choose a real life amongst real gods.”

“I didn’t do this to her,” Emma says softly. “If she wants to try this, she’s welcome to. I have no interest in keeping her prisoner in the Underworld.” She looks at Kevin, her voice lowering further. “I know what that’s like.”

Kevin squeezes her shoulder tighter and nods. “It’ll be okay, little sister. I promise. Everything will work out.”

Emma laughs, quiet and tired. “I certainly hope so.”

* * *

“I don’t want to do that just because my mother is an overbearing maniac,” Alyssa says, watching as Emma paces their bedroom. “She doesn’t get to tell me that I’m making a mistake by trusting you.”

“You have a say in this. Of _course_ you do.” Emma stops pacing to take Alyssa’s hands in hers. “But darling, please, you must see what this looks like. I’m the daughter of a God of Magic, one who betrayed other gods and created his children for the sole purpose of power. I’m the _God of the Underworld._ As far as everyone in Olympus is concerned, I stole you for your beauty, and you have no idea that something is wrong.”

Alyssa smiles softly and leans forward, pressing a kiss to Emma’s lips.

Emma blinks. “What was that for?”

“You should call me ‘darling’ more often,” Alyssa murmurs, pressing herself against Emma and giving her a teasing smile. “I like it.”

“Uh…” Emma clears her throat. “What were we talking about?”

“You’re kicking me out of my brand new house that I just decorated.” Alyssa shoots a pointed look at the flowers curling up to the ceiling of the room.

Emma flushes red. “That’s not fair, and you know it.”

“I do know it. I’ll still give you a tiny bit of a hard time.” Alyssa rests her forehead against Emma’s. “I just wish they could see what I see. Feel what I feel.”

“What do you feel?” Emma asks in a whisper.

Alyssa laughs. “You already know. Can’t you figure it out?” She kisses Emma again, slowly. “Okay,” she says softly. “I’ll do what they ask. But… please don’t try to shut me out. Please? Now that we know how badly our time can get shifted, I don’t want to lose the right sense of how you’re feeling. I want to know you’re okay.”

Emma grins and bumps their foreheads together. “Nobody can kill a God of the Dead. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Just because they can’t kill you doesn’t mean they can’t hurt you,” Alyssa murmurs. “Please be careful. Promise me?”

“I swear it.” Emma presses a kiss to Alyssa’s temple. “Take Kirby with you.”

Alyssa stares at her as the dog appears, in his camouflaged state, next to her. “Doesn’t he have to stay here?”

“No.” Emma scratches him behind his ears. “He can go to the mortal plane. Can actually stay longer than I can.” She meets Alyssa’s eyes, trying not to let her worry show. “And he can get you back here in an instant if need be.”

She knows her fear is vibrating off of her so physically that Alyssa can undoubtedly feel it, so it’s no surprise that Alyssa frowns. “You’re afraid. Why are you afraid?”

“If you’re linked to me, if you’re cursed, I don’t know how quickly the mortal plane could affect you. I might not sense it in time, and I still don’t know how well the Underworld or the ferry respond to you. I-I… I don’t want you to _need_ to get here and be unable to.” Emma swallows. “This is _dangerous,_ Alyssa. I’m so sorry that there isn’t a better way to do it.”

Alyssa brushes her thumb against Emma’s cheek. “It’s going to be okay, Emma. I trust you.” She grins down at Kirby, who wiggles his stumpy tail and pants happily at her. “I trust him, too. We’ll be okay.”

“You had better be. Or my brothers and I are going to have issues.”

“Well, I’d better make sure everything works out okay, then,” Alyssa says with a laugh. She hesitates, the smile on her face fading as they stare at each other. She pulls Emma into another heated kiss, then she whispers, “I’ll see you later. Bye.”

She crouches down and takes Kirby’s face in her hands. “Hey, boy. Let’s go see some fields of flowers. What do you say?”

God and dog disappear into shadows, leaving Emma standing in the room alone. She stays where she is, silent as Skia weaves between her legs. After a long moment, she whispers, “Bye.”


	8. til we all return

The God of Flowers is not happy.

She sits in a field of daffodils, a giant dog lying next to her with his head set in her lap, keeping her company while she thinks.

A part of her is not sure if she was ever truly happy.

Aside from the brief time she had spent with the God of the Dead.

It should worry her. She knows it.

But she can’t seem to feel worried at all.

* * *

“Can you _please _change out of those horrible clothes?”

Alyssa stands at the edge of a cornfield, her arms folded across her chest. “No, Mother. This is what I chose to wear.”

Mrs. Greene sighs. “You were matching that…”

“My wife?”

“Do _not_ refer to _her_ as _that.”_

“Why not? It’s what she is, isn’t it?” Alyssa raises an eyebrow at Mrs. Greene. “I know what a link between gods is, Mother. There might not have been some ceremonial event, but that doesn’t change what’s happened.”

“Oh, my little lily flower,” Mrs. Greene murmurs, brushing back Alyssa’s hair. “I’m so sorry that you’re going through this. Your head will clear up in time.”

She can feel Emma’s loneliness crying out to her from the Underworld.

“Mom,” Alyssa whispers. “You don’t understand. I don’t _need_ it to clear up. I-I… I liked being there. I liked being with her.”

“Stop being absurd, Alyssa,” Mrs. Greene says coldly. “You’re just confused.”

“Am I confused, or am I the only one willing to see her clearly?”

Mrs. Greene glares at her. “I am far older than you. I know what gods like her are capable of. Learn not to be so naïve.” She turns on her heel and walks away, the edges of the cornfield dying as she passes.

* * *

Kirby begins to growl as Alyssa lies with her head on his side, watching clouds move above her. She reaches up and scratches his ear. “What’s the matter, boy?”

“I think he knows we prefer cats.”

Alyssa looks up, startled to see Kaylee and Shelby standing a few feet away from her.

“Speak for yourself,” Shelby says, narrowing her eyes at Kaylee. “I like dogs.”

Kaylee grins, a bright, dangerous grin that could put mortals on their knees. She brushes her finger along Shelby’s jaw, bringing her in as if to kiss her but stopping just short. “You would like cats if I told you to.”

Shelby swallows. “You know,” she says, her voice a little hoarse, “I feel remarkably stupid around you considering I’m the God of Knowledge.”

Kaylee winks and taps her finger against Shelby’s lips, then walks closer to Alyssa. “We were hoping that we could talk to you.”

Alyssa sighs and sits up. “I’m not really in the mood to be lectured more about my choices, so if that’s what this is…”

“It’s not,” Shelby says quickly, recovering to stand next to Kaylee. “We just want to talk to you. We haven’t in a while.”

Alyssa pats Kirby on the head. “It’s okay, boy. They’re alright.”

The dog settles against Alyssa, and Kaylee and Shelby sit across from her.

“How are you?” Shelby asks softly.

She’s quiet for a moment, letting her fingers trace through Kirby’s fur. “Not that great, actually,” she whispers.

“If you’re feeling the effects of being out of the Underworld, Alyssa, you can’t force yourself to stay in the mortal plane.” Shelby bites her lip, thinking. “Regardless of what any of us think of Emma, it’s not worth you getting hurt over.”

Alyssa shakes her head. “It’s not that. At least, I don’t think it is. I just…” She closes her eyes and sighs. “I _miss_ her. I _miss_ Emma. I-I don’t…” She clears her throat, rubbing at the spot where her heart sits pointlessly in her chest. “I don’t understand it. This feels awful. I just…” Her voice cracks a bit, and she clears her throat again to try to cover it. “I just want to go _home,_ and every instinct I have is telling me that home is the Underworld. Home is _her.”_

Shelby frowns, curious, but she doesn’t say anything, instead choosing to look at Kaylee.

Kaylee has a soft expression on her face, watching Alyssa with gentle interest. “Lys,” she murmurs. “You’re not cursed. Well, maybe you are, but what you’re feeling isn’t part of it. Trust me, I know.” She threads her fingers with Shelby’s absentmindedly. “I’m the God of Love, Alyssa. I know what feelings are real and what are forced.”

Alyssa’s brain fumbles around a bit, and she tries her best to keep her panic from reaching Emma. “What? Wait… what? Kaylee, you’re not saying…”

Her friend gives her a sympathetic smile. “You’re in love with her, Alyssa.”

“Well, fuck,” Shelby mumbles.

Alyssa stares at them, baffled. “I… What does that even mean? We… We’re _gods,_ we don’t…”

“It’s not impossible,” Kaylee says casually. “It’s just not common since we outlive mortal lovers and we’re so good at ending up in fights with immortal lovers. It’s far easier to keep things contained to sex.” She gives a sharp grin. “Which isn’t to say that the sex isn’t amazing, of course.”

“Oh, you mean not noticing that days have passed in the mortal plane?” Alyssa mutters with a scoff.

“Do you remember that one winter where a bunch of the mortals got really sad and stupid and their wars had no strategy and the whole thing was just sort of a mess?”

“…Yeah?”

“It was because the Gods of Love and Wisdom weren’t properly doing their jobs because they were too busy-”

_“Okay!”_ Shelby interrupts. “That’s more than enough of that!”

Alyssa gives a genuine laugh for the first time in weeks, and Kirby licks her hand at the sound. “At least I know we’re not the only ones.” She stares off into the distance. “What am I supposed to do? My mother… She’s convinced that Emma did something to me. And I _know_ that she didn’t.”

“Not to be blunt,” Shelby says, “but you’re a _god._ What does it matter if your mother doesn’t approve of who you see?”

“You know my mother. She would never rest until she made Emma pay. And given how everyone assumes the worst about Emma, I worry that she’ll do something horrible to her that I won’t be able to prevent no matter how hard I try.”

Shelby and Kaylee look at each other, a silent conversation passing between them.

“No matter what happens, you have us on your side,” Shelby says quietly.

Alyssa swallows. “I-I do?”

Kaylee nods. “We’ve never been fond of the God of the Underworld. Because pretty much no one ever has before you. But you’re our friend, Alyssa. If you love her, if you have this much faith in her, then we have enough belief in you to help with whatever you need.”

“Thank you,” Alyssa whispers. “I-”

_“Alyssa!”_

They turn, startled, as Emma appears next to them, out of breath with a wild, scared look in her eyes.

“Emma, what’s wrong?” Alyssa gets to her feet as Kirby bounds towards Emma, circling her and nudging his head against her hand.

“I… You… Are you okay?” Emma blinks at her and glances at Shelby and Kaylee before returning her gaze to Alyssa, nervously adjusting her tie.

She’s not entirely sure if _okay_ is the right word, but, in this context, she knows her answer.

“I’m fine, Emma,” Alyssa says gently. “What happened?”

“I felt you panic,” Emma explains. Her hands tremble as she fidgets with her tie again. “You felt… You felt scared, but I couldn’t leave immediately, and I-I… I was worried something had happened.”

“Shh,” Alyssa soothes, taking a step forward and resting her palm against Emma’s cheek. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

“I-I tried to get here sooner, but I-”

Alyssa interrupts her rambling by kissing her. “Emma,” she mumbles against her lips. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Got it?”

Emma nods, a little dumbly.

“Go back home. I’ll be there in a few hours.”

“Yeah?” Emma’s eyes widen.

Alyssa kisses her again. “Yeah.”

“O-Okay.” She nods at Shelby and Kaylee, still looking a little confused, then she steps back and disappears into shadows.

Alyssa lightly touches her lips, lost in thought.

“Well. I can tell you one thing, Alyssa.” Kaylee leans against Shelby’s shoulder. “That god is in love with you right back.”

* * *

“You’re _not_ going back.”

“Yes. I am.”

“No. You are _not.”_ Mrs. Greene paces furiously, rage visible in the tension of her shoulders. “My daughter is not living in the _Underworld.”_

Alyssa grits her teeth. “You don’t get to make that choice for me. I want to be with Emma. I’m _going_ to be with Emma. All that I’ve learned in this time in the mortal plane is that I don’t want to be here.”

“If you go back there,” Mrs. Greene says slowly, “understand that I will not rest until she gives you back to me. Until she releases whatever hold she has on you.”

“Mother… I hope that someday you understand that I’m of my right mind. That I’m making my own choices.” Alyssa shakes her head. “But if you don’t? I can’t help you.”

She turns and walks away, Kirby in step beside her.

Behind her, she hears her mother whisper, “I’ll find a way to help you. I swear it.”


	9. brings the cold and scars my soul

The God of the Harvest visits the new God of Magic.

He listens as she explains, as she rants, as she fusses and worries.

He listens to her fear.

Marigold, for pain and grief.

Witch-hazel, for spellcraft.

Pomegranate, for the cursed fruit.

Agrimony, for sleep.

Aconitum, a poison of the Underworld.

Waters from the River Styx, the River Acheron, the River Lethe, the River Cocytus, the River Phlegethon.

Ingredients of magic, swirling within a bowl made of the bark of an ash tree.

Waiting for their time.

* * *

“What made you come back?” Emma asks, her voice low. “You didn’t need to if you didn’t want to, Alyssa. Even if you’re bound here, even if you need to come back on occasion to keep yourself safe, that doesn’t mean you owe me something. I can give you a space all your own. I can-”

“Emma,” Alyssa interrupts quietly. She rests her head against Emma’s shoulder and idly runs her fingers up and down the other god’s sternum. “Can you listen to me for a few minutes?”

“Of course.”

“I felt strange in the mortal plane. Uncomfortable. I don’t know for sure if it was the beginnings of the impact of being out there instead of in the Underworld, but I just… I didn’t _like_ being there. I was only comfortable when I was surrounded by flowers, when I immersed myself in my domain and tried to block everything else out.” She sighs softly. “And I… I _missed_ you. I don’t know how to explain it, exactly. But it felt like there was this hole growing in my chest. I wanted you. I just wanted you.”

Emma kisses Alyssa’s temple. “I… I felt like I was being torn in half. I tried to hide the pain, the loneliness, as best I could, but… I couldn’t get you out of my head. I think I would’ve been driven mad if you’d been in the mortal plane forever.”

“How does it feel like this so soon?” She pulls herself closer to Emma’s body. “It can’t be just this link between us, this connection caused by cursed wine. I felt myself surrendering to you, felt my metaphorical heart opening to you, the moment we first kissed. I needed all of you from the first moment our lips touched, and I can’t even begin to explain it.”

“I felt it too. I don’t know what it is.” Emma brushes a lock of hair behind Alyssa’s ear. “All I know is that I’ll do everything within my power to prove I’m worth you.”

“You don’t have to prove anything to me,” Alyssa says gently.

“Perhaps not.” She kisses Alyssa and shifts, rolling her over onto her back and getting on top of her. “No harm in putting effort into it, though?”

Alyssa grins up at her. “There’s absolutely no harm at all in that.”

* * *

A huge bouncy ball clatters down one of the hallways of the Underworld, and a three-headed dog sprints after it.

“You know,” Emma says, sitting in a chair with her feet propped up on a table, “he definitely likes you more than he likes me.”

Alyssa laughs as Kirby brings the ball back to her. “He does not.”

“Mhm. He definitely does.” Emma puts her hands behind her head. “I mean, it’s alright. I understand. It’s just an observation.”

“Can I ask something that… I don’t know. It might be personal.”

Emma smirks. “We’ve gotten more than a little personal at this point, I think.”

“Oh, shut up,” Alyssa says with a grin. She throws the ball for Kirby again. “Your brothers. They seem nice enough, at the very least they seem to honestly care about you. Yet you don’t seem to actually have anyone.”

The words hit her heavy in the chest, and it takes her a while to come up with a response.

“I’m sorry,” Alyssa says, when the silence gets too long. “I didn’t mean to-”

“No, no, you didn’t say anything wrong.” Emma rubs the back of her neck and adjusts her tie carefully. “I just haven’t really had to put it into words in… probably ever.”

Alyssa pats Kirby on each of his heads and sits down across from Emma. “You can tell me. You know that, right?”

“I think you’re the only one I would tell,” Emma whispers. She absentmindedly starts petting Skia when she jumps up onto the table and curls up next to her. “The thing is, I know they care about me. They do. I’m not sure they fully trust me, and we get into arguments all the time, but the three of us… it’s sort of ‘no one is allowed to hurt them but me’, if you’ve heard that before. We’re immortal. It’s easy to let fights escalate and then cool off for a century and move on. But… I-I… I don’t let them in. I don’t even know if they would want to. I just can’t trust family. Not after what our parents did.”

“The trickster behavior,” Alyssa murmurs. “The traps and subterfuge.”

Emma swallows and turns her head away.

“There’s more to it than that, isn’t there?” Alyssa reaches across the table, setting her hand on top of Emma’s. “What did they do to you, Emma? I don’t mean hiding curses in your domain. What did they do to _you?”_

She swallows again, her throat impossibly dry. When she lifts her head, her hands start to tremble at the soft look in Alyssa’s eyes. “They made me a message. Just to prove what they could do to us. That we weren’t as invulnerable as we seemed, that the fact that they were less powerful gods meant nothing.”

Alyssa lifts her hand and presses a kiss to her knuckles. “What happened?”

“My parents trapped me in Olympus,” Emma says quietly. “They enchanted a sword and drove it through my chest and into the wall of the main meeting hall, then left me there for my brothers to find. I couldn’t use my powers to get away from it. I couldn’t remove it. I was outside of the Underworld for weeks, unable to summon anyone to help me, and the longer I was out there the more it hurt. Shaking, trembling, hallucinating monsters that weren’t really there. Veins that aren’t even real within our skin, pumping red hot fire through my body. We can’t die, Alyssa. By the time my brothers realized that something was wrong and found me, I wished that we could.”

There’s silence as Alyssa just watches her thoughtfully, brow furrowed, a dull horror in her eyes.

Emma pulls her hand back and looks down, trying not to crack under the weight of the sadness and sympathy she can feel flowing from the other god.

Alyssa stands and walks around to where Emma is sitting, ivy wrapping around the legs of Emma’s chair and pulling it back from the table.

“What-”

She sits down in Emma’s lap, takes her face in her hands, and kisses her, long and slow and with passion that would make Emma’s heart skip if it were beating.

“You always speak of what _I_ deserve,” Alyssa whispers against Emma’s lips. “But don’t you understand what _you_ deserve, Emma? You deserve so much more than what you’ve been given. You deserve to be happy. If you’re swearing to spend eternity doing everything you can for me, you have to accept that I’m going to spend eternity trying to do everything I can for you, too.”

“Do you mean that?” Emma asks, daring to let hope slip into her voice.

“I swear it,” Alyssa says, before pulling Emma back into a hard kiss.

* * *

The God of Flowers tends to a field of lavender, letting it grow and flourish around her, humming softly to herself.

When the God of Magic offers his support, his loyalty, a peace offering, she is not sure what to make of it.

Past friendship, past trust, makes her accept.

The God of Flowers simply wants someone to believe in her.

Wanting can make even a god vulnerable.

* * *

Alyssa pours wine into two glasses, passing one to Emma as they lean on a table and watch Kirby and Skia play with each other. “I heard something about a flower garden in the Asphodel Fields?”

“…Perhaps.”

“You’re not supposed to have a flower garden in the Asphodel Fields, Emma.”

The God of the Dead pouts. “I want you to feel like this place is yours just as much as it’s mine.”

Alyssa laughs and kisses her on the cheek. “That might be a bit over the top, darling.”

“Oh, fine. Ruin my fun,” Emma grumbles as she and Alyssa both drink from their wine.

Alyssa frowns a bit, but has no other reaction.

Emma buckles forward, the glass falling to the ground and shattering on the floor.

“Emma?” Alyssa’s voice is scared, unsurprisingly so, if she can feel the pain and fear suddenly wracking through her body.

Something is wrong.

Something is terribly, _terribly_ wrong.

She staggers away from the table, her vision blurring in and out, a cold mist coming from her mouth. Her hands are trembling, shadows pouring from them like steam, and pain is vibrating through her bones.

“Alyssa,” she whispers, her voice coming out hoarse and rasping. “Alyssa, _please.”_

It doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t make sense, not through the fear and panic she’s feeling from Alyssa, but the confusion in her brain is making it impossible to decipher whether it’s really Alyssa’s or actually all hers.

She looks up at Alyssa, still barely visible through her fading vision. She’s frozen in place, frozen with shock in her expression.

“Please,” Emma chokes out. _“Don’t do this.”_

“Emma,” Alyssa whispers, but it sounds far away, like they aren’t even in the same room.

Her body goes cold, limbs getting stiffer and stiffer like she’s trying to move them through cement, and she gets one more flash of Alyssa’s panicked whirlwind of emotions before everything goes dark.


	10. there is no peace here

_The Gods cannot be killed._

_They can be banished. Put in stasis. Locked away for eternity._

_They can be put through unimaginable pain._

_There are few who truly injure a God. Even fewer who can defeat one._

_Anyone planning on locking away a Dominion Trio God must be prepared._

_And they must be willing to make them suffer._

* * *

Alyssa crumbles to her knees, echoing vibrations of pain and betrayal overwhelming.

Kirby whimpers and presses one of his heads against her shoulder, whining pitifully as Skia paces around the spot where Emma had been standing seconds earlier.

She had been there.

She had been _right there._

Until a mix of icy mist and shadows took her away.

She drags herself to her feet, leaning on Kirby.

She feels like a statue with pieces chiseled away, a deep, mourning pit in the center of her chest, sucking in all the happiness she’s ever experienced.

Her hands tremble as she touches one of the daffodils on the wall, watching as it shrivels and dies on contact.

She can’t feel Emma.

It’s as if half of her emotions have been stolen from her, half of her limbs torn from her body. She didn’t know how much she needed the connection between them until she felt the agony of its loss.

There is nothing left in the place of her useless heart but the knowledge that eternity is not long enough to repair what’s been done to her soul.

Alyssa isn’t sure what she’s more afraid of. The pain she felt coming off of Emma. The fear. Or the desperate betrayal.

Alyssa gave her the wine.

The _wine._

“Kirby,” she whispers, taking the dog’s middle head in her hands. “Kirby, I need you to take me somewhere, okay? I need you to take me to the God of Magic. Please, boy. It’s for Emma.”

The dog whimpers, looking as worried as a dog can, and he gently licks her chin. He shifts into his stealthier form, then lightly rests his teeth around her wrist, and pulls her into the shadows.

* * *

Anger surges through her the moment she sees him.

The God of Magic, seated at a table listening to a record playing soft music, looks up and grins when Alyssa walks through the door of the room he’s in. “Alyssa! Are you fr-”

Ivy bursts out of the floor and wraps around him. He gives her a shocked look, but she ignores it as she whispers, “Greg. What did you do?”

“I-I don’t understand,” he stammers. “It was supposed to free you from her control.”

Kirby whines next to her, fidgeting, and she suddenly understands the heavy feeling of loss within her.

She and Emma are no longer linked at all.

“I wasn’t being _controlled,”_ Alyssa hisses. “I don’t know how many times I have to explain this, but I went to the Underworld _by choice!_ Why would you even think you had the right to assume otherwise?”

Greg stares at her with wide eyes. “I-I just… Alyssa, I was trying to _help_. The God of the Harvest said…” He trails off, swallowing nervously.

“My mother,” Alyssa says slowly, “said _what?”_

“She said you were in danger,” he whispers. “She said a curse had taken over your mind, and the only way to fix it was to break the curse’s bond and put the God of the Underworld down. That’s what I did.”

Alyssa feels a dull, horrible coldness throughout her skin. “What was it, Greg? What did that wine do to us?”

“You both did drink it then?”

“Yes.”

Greg nods. “It was made so that it would exclude you from the worst of it. It severed the curse from you, and then it… well…”

“Well. _What?”_ Alyssa prompts through gritted teeth, the vines tightening around Greg.

“It’s a poison combined with a spell. It’s meant to be strong enough to put even a Dominion god to sleep for a while to keep them defenseless. From there, I… I can’t really guarantee what it will do to her. It can’t kill her. But it had to be strong enough to take down the strongest god, and that’s a magic that few gods have ever experienced the effects of before.”

Alyssa shakes her head, unable to keep the disgust out of her voice. “Do you really hate her that much?”

“I don’t _hate_ her. She just doesn’t seem worth the effort. She’s the God of the _Underworld,_ Alyssa. Why is she worth _your_ time?”

Alyssa closes her eyes and looks away. “I’m not going to justify myself to you,” she says softly. “Tell me where she is, Greg.”

Greg shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“Greg…”

“I _don’t,_ Alyssa. Your mother chose the location.”

Alyssa bites her lip. “Fine.” She turns and heads for the door, Kirby at her side.

“Wait a minute. Alyssa. You left your ivy.”

“You’re the God of Magic, Greg,” she says, her voice heavy with exhaustion. “Figure it out yourself.”

* * *

The God of the Harvest is beaming as she walks into the Underworld.

“Alyssa!” She hugs her daughter tightly, squeezing her as hard as she can manage. “Oh, honey, I’m so glad you’re safe. Greg assured me that you wouldn’t be hurt, but I was so worried.”

Alyssa stands still, not returning the hug, waiting for her mother to release her and step back. Once she does, Alyssa just takes a moment, regarding her with a gaze she knows is ice cold.

“Honey,” Mrs. Greene says, “what’s wrong?”

“Where is she?” Alyssa asks, quietly, her voice remarkably calm.

“What? Who?”

“Mother. What did you do to Emma?”

Mrs. Greene takes a step back, looking horrified. “Alyssa, you can’t possibly-.”

“Don’t. Do _not.”_ Alyssa steps forward, following her. “Do _not_ say what you’re about to say, Mother. Don’t you _dare_ question why I’m still ‘brainwashed’ or why I’m still ‘under control’ or whatever other lies you’ve been telling Greg, telling everyone, telling _yourself_ just because you can’t accept that I’ve chosen a god you don’t approve of.”

“You don’t understand what she is,” Mrs. Greene growls, folding her arms across her chest. “She has _this place_ has her domain. You understand that, don’t you? This cold, dark place where life doesn’t exist? Don’t you feel the icy choke in your throat whenever she comes near you, whenever you spend even a moment in this place?”

“No. I smell woodsmoke, Mother. I smell woodsmoke, and lavender, and I feel _safe._” Alyssa steps closer again, pleading. “Please just tell me where she is.”

Mrs. Greene shakes her head stubbornly. “The longer you are separated from that… that _Death God,_ the quicker you will get over this absurd obsession she’s put in your head.”

The Underworld shudders and rumbles, and golden ivy bursts from the ground, wrapping around Mrs. Greene’s legs and waist.

_“Alyssa!”_ she yells, almost scolding, reaching down to push away the vegetation.

More ivy grabs her wrists before she can.

“Where is she?” Alyssa whispers.

Mrs. Greene scoffs. “Where she belongs. Come on, honey, it’s time to stop this nonsense and come home.”

She’s been patient.

Her anger and frustration get fed up with it.

** _“I AM THE QUEEN OF THE UNDERWORLD.”_ **

The whole room quakes violently, Alyssa’s words vibrating with power. Her mother falls silent, scared, watching her with wide eyes.

“I am the Queen of the Underworld,” Alyssa repeats in a snarl. “This _is_ my home. You can punish me for it if you wish, but I will _not_ let you punish the God of the Dead. Tell me what you did, God of the Harvest, or I swear I will find a way to banish you to the darkest pit I can find for the next _millennium.”_

Mrs. Greene just stares at her.

Alyssa takes a step back, realization hitting her as hard as if she had been struck directly by the ferry train. “Darkest pit,” she whispers. “Mother… Mother, please tell me you didn’t.”

Her mother doesn’t answer, verbally.

The way she refuses to look Alyssa in the eye is all the answer she needs.

Alyssa turns and starts to run.

* * *

The solid black metal door is silent. Unassuming in the wake of her broken connection.

_They have to be let out._

“Please,” Alyssa whispers as Skia winds around her feet. “Please, I don’t know how this works. But please, just give her back to me. I need her.” She swallows. “I need her, and you can’t have her. She doesn’t belong to you. So however this works, whatever I need to do, just tell me. Because I’m taking her back. She. Is. _Mine.”_

The echo of her voice rings through the hallway.

She’s about to reach out, to open the door, when she stops in her tracks.

It, slowly, opens itself.

Alyssa can see the darkness in front of her, can feel coldness and despair and grief.

But the pull, the horrible weight on her soul, never comes.

She takes a step forward and lifts a shaking hand, her trembling fingers moving past the threshold of the doorway.

The shadows seem tangible, like touching wet cement or trying to pick up mud. Her hand sinks in, up to her elbow, and then her fingers land somewhere solid and burning hot.

She almost jerks her hand away, but she grits her teeth and tightens the grip instead before taking a careful step backwards.

When her hand reappears through the shadows, she doesn’t know what to think.

She’s holding a bundle of witch-hazel.

“I don’t understand,” she says quietly. “What is-.”

The bundle bursts into flames in her hand, and she’s too stunned to even drop it, letting it burn to ash in her palm.

She lets the ash fall to the ground, and, as it does, there’s a flicker of fire in the doorway of Tartarus, and Emma’s limp form falls out of the shadows.

Alyssa grabs her by her jacket and pulls her away from the door, which shuts again with a cold and decisive slam.

“Emma. _Emma!”_ Alyssa rests her hand on Emma’s cheek, staring down at her. “Please. Please wake up.”

“She can’t.”

Alyssa looks up sharply, watching her mother walk towards her. “Unless you’re going to be helpful,” she says, her voice thick with growing tears, “you don’t want to be near me right now.”

Mrs. Greene doesn’t seem bothered by the threat, watching her without emotion. “The poison she drank was designed to keep her in stasis for as long as possible. As long as she was alive and within the Underworld, things would continue as they are supposed to. It was the only way to maintain the proper natural order while also being rid of her.”

“You put her in Tartarus,” Alyssa chokes out. “You put her in the place souls are _punished.”_

“It was the only way,” Mrs. Greene repeats softly.

Alyssa shakes her head and presses a gentle kiss to Emma’s lips. She flinches back as burning pain shoots through her skull, and she watches as Emma’s spine goes stiff moments before she writhes onto her side, twitching and shaking and trembling.

“What did you do to her?” Alyssa demands.

“She isn’t feeling the pain.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Alyssa says dryly.

“Having her be asleep for so long was the more humane option, and this is why,” Mrs. Greene insists. “The fires of Tartarus can strip a soul, but it doesn’t work on immortals. So they just… keep trying. From the inside out.”

Alyssa gives a sarcastic laugh. “So hoping that she won’t feel it is a more humane option than not doing it to her at all?”

“She had to be disposed of, Alyssa.”

“I _love_ her!”

Mrs. Greene freezes, her jaw dropping. “…What?”

Alyssa swallows. “I love her, Mother. I truly, genuinely love her. Even Kaylee confirmed that it’s true.” She rests her forehead against Emma’s, ignoring another shudder of pain. “How long? How long will I have to watch this?”

Mrs. Greene pauses. “How long would you wait for her?”

“All of my eternity,” Alyssa whispers.

There’s a long silence, only interrupted by occasional whimpers as more fire shudders through Emma’s body.

Alyssa looks up when she hears the quiet sound of glass setting down on stone.

There’s a small bottle on the ground, halfway between her and Mrs. Greene.

“Greg gave me that,” Mrs. Greene says, her voice low. “It was an emergency backup, in case something went wrong and you were pulled into Tartarus with… her.” She pauses, swallowing. “If you make her drink it, it should wake her and stop the flames.” She studies Alyssa for another moment. “I was doing what I thought was best for you. I hope someday you forgive me for that.”

Without another word, the God of the Harvest turns and walks away.


	11. keeps this love alive

_i do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,_

_or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off._

_i love you as certain dark things are to be loved,_

_in secret, between the shadow and the soul._

_-Pablo Neruda, XVII_

* * *

Fire.

Fire. Pain. A freezing chill through the center of her body.

Emma takes in a gasping, desperate breath, her hands reaching for where her tie normally is.

She instead finds herself touching the fabric of a soft t-shirt, and she opens her eyes to look down at the plain black short-sleeve shirt she’s wearing.

A soft, shuddering pain thuds through her again, and she gives a soft groan as her head falls back onto her pillow, her body trembling.

“Oh,” a quiet voice says.

She’s lifted up, and someone slips behind her, bringing her down to rest her back on their thigh as they hold her and gently run their fingers through her hair.

“Hurts,” Emma whispers. “I feel empty. I feel so cold.” She whimpers as the burning, fire-like agony shatters through her bones again, and the person holding her wraps her more firmly in their arms.

“I know. I know. We just have to wait, okay? I’m so glad you woke up, but you won’t be back to perfect right away.”

Emma leans her head back, resting on the person’s arm. She looks up at the woman holding her, young in face, dark curly hair hanging past her shoulders.

So beautiful it would take Emma’s breath away if she had any other than the one she used to try to clear her mind.

“Hi,” she whispers.

“Hi,” the woman says. She leans down and presses a soft kiss to Emma’s temple. “You’ll be okay.”

Emma’s head feels thick and cloudy, and everything in her vision seems just a bit hazy. “You’re pretty,” she mumbles.

“I’m glad.”

“Mm.” She blinks for a minute, confused. “Smells like lavender.”

“And woodsmoke,” the woman says with a laugh. She pauses, looking into Emma’s eyes, and it’s like she doesn’t find what she’s looking for. “Emma. Do you know who I am?”

Emma’s mouth feels dry, and she tries to tug on her nonexistent tie again. “I… You… I-I can’t…”

Everything about the woman feels familiar, feels _right,_ but there’s an ache in her chest that feels like an open wound, and she can’t find the woman in her mind.

“I… please,” Emma chokes out, looking the woman in the eyes with desperation. There’s panic twisting in her head, fear trembling along her body, a heavy weight of knowing she’s supposed to understand but being unable to make the connections. “Please, I don’t know what…” She twists as she feels the icy cold mix with the fire in her chest. “Please. Help me.”

The woman holds her closer, brushing her hand across Emma’s back as she clings to her to try to keep her calm.

“It’s okay,” the woman whispers. “It’s improving. I know it doesn’t make sense right now, but I promise I’ll keep you safe.” She rests her head against Emma’s, her voice dropping to a level that Emma is pretty sure she isn’t supposed to hear. “Even if you don’t remember what we had for the rest of eternity, Emma. You’re always going to be the one I love.”

The words ring through Emma’s head, and she’s about the ask about them when another shockwave of pain makes her slip back into unconsciousness.

* * *

She walks into the small room, watching the woman grow random sprouts of daisies from the floor for the large three-headed dog to chase.

The dog stops as soon as he notices her and runs to her, barking and circling her, his stump of a tail wagging fiercely.

“You shouldn’t be up,” the woman says, walking over to her and setting a hand over her shoulder. “You need to-”

“Alyssa,” she whispers.

The God of Flowers stares at her, mouth falling slightly open, tears coming to her eyes.

She reaches out, setting her hands on Emma’s jaw so softly it’s as if she’s afraid they’ll both break.

“You remember my name?” she asks quietly.

“I remember _you,”_ Emma murmurs. “I don’t feel the pain anymore. The blankness… I think what I drank had Lethe river water in it.”

“River of forgetfulness.” Alyssa lets out a shaky sigh. “Please don’t do that to me again.”

Emma pauses, watching her, unsure of where to start with what she needs to say.

Alyssa falters, taking a step back and letting her hands fall back down to her sides. “I-I… I know this is probably confusing. I felt you disappear. I know you felt betrayed in that moment, and I can’t help but assume that you thought – think – that I chose to send you to Tartarus.”

Emma looks away, sliding her hands into her pockets. “You know, I… You aren’t the first person I’ve ever been with _physically._ There’s been mortals who don’t know what I am. A few who do, and a few immortals. I’m a thousand years old; of course there has. But of the ones who knew what I was, you’re the only one who wasn’t looking at it as little more than a dare, or a challenge, or some risky game of daring to test the Underworld. Distractions to try to steal souls or the items on these shelves that are meant to be too dangerous for any other plane.”

Alyssa closes her eyes and swallows, her jaw tense.

“You’re the only one who’s ever looked at me like I maybe actually matter for who I am. Like I’m more than the god who gets to take the blame when the others need someone, anyone, to pin it on.”

“You’re _far_ more than that, Emma,” Alyssa whispers, her eyes opening again.

“I know you believe that.” Emma pauses, restless, taking her hands out of her pockets so she can fold her arms across her chest. “Which is why I know that, despite what my panic, that initial fear of gut reaction, told me, you wouldn’t do that to me on purpose.”

Alyssa sighs in relief, so hard that she almost buckles. “I didn’t,” she says, her voice cracking. “I didn’t, Emma. I had no idea.”

Emma gives a small nod. “Your mother?”

“Yes,” Alyssa whispers. “She… In some insane, irrational way, she thought she was protecting me. Saving me. She refused to accept that you did not force me to stay with you.” She shakes her head slowly. “I’m so sorry, Emma. This is all my fault.”

“How could it possibly be your fault? You aren’t in control of her actions any more than she’s in control of yours.”

Alyssa turns her head. “If I had never drunk that wine in the first place, she would have had no reason to torture you. To put you through that.”

Emma steps closer, taking Alyssa’s face in her hands and gently pulling her to eye contact. “The time we’ve spent together would’ve been worth centuries in that pit, Alyssa,” she whispers.

Alyssa surges forward, kissing her, hard, teeth and tongue desperate for everything they can take. Emma stumbles backwards, bumping into the table, and they break apart with a strained laugh.

“This feels familiar,” Emma rasps, tucking a strand of hair behind Alyssa’s ear.

“Mhm. I like it.”

Emma rests her forehead against Alyssa’s. “I just…”

“What’s wrong?” Alyssa murmurs with a frown.

“I don’t know. The pain’s gone, but I still feel…” Emma shakes her head as if trying to clear confusion from it. “I feel this _emptiness._ It’s like someone dug my soul out of my chest and left nothing but a cold darkness behind. Like I was ripped in two and not put back together properly.”

Alyssa lets out a soft sob, pressing a gentle kiss to Emma’s lips. “I know. I know what you’re talking about. I feel it too.”

“What-”

“Our link is gone.”

Emma pulls back a bit, a cautious look in her eyes. “What?”

“What they did to you. What they did to us. It severed the bond. It’s why we can’t feel each other’s emotions.”

She blinks, confused, and a weight settles in her chest. “That’s what it is,” she murmurs. “I knew something felt off, that I felt a little off, but I couldn’t tell why.”

Alyssa pauses, studying her for a moment, then taps a finger against Emma’s lips. “Wait a moment.” She walks behind the table, to one of the shelves. “I’ve been waiting for you to wake up properly. I almost did this immediately, but I wanted to make sure you were aware, that you were a part of the decision.”

“What deci…” Emma trails off, her eyes going wide as she watches Alyssa lean next to her, holding a glass and the bottle of pomegranate wine. “Alyssa,” she whispers, her voice hoarse.

“I…” Alyssa swallows, steeling herself, her fingers trembling on the glass. “I love you. I’m in love with you. I know that’s difficult for gods like us to understand, but I truly love you, God of the Underworld. I want to spend my eternity with you. I want to _choose_ to.” She sets the bottle in Emma’s hand. “But I want you to choose it, too.”

Emma stares down at the bottle, her mind blank, shock making her mouth stop working. She sees Alyssa bite her lip and start to pull back a bit, and she clears her throat. “Alyssa… are you sure? Is this really what you want?”

“I am completely sure, Emma.” Alyssa kisses her on the cheek. “I couldn’t be more sure.”

Emma steadies Alyssa’s trembling hand to hold the wine glass in place, then hesitates only briefly before pouring some of the wine into it. She sets the bottle down on the table, still holding Alyssa's hand, preventing her from drinking it.

“I am not certain what love feels like,” Emma whispers. “I don’t know what it’s supposed to be. But no matter what it feels like, I know I feel it for you.”

She lowers her hand, giving the control of the moment back to Alyssa.

Alyssa takes in a small, pointless breath, meeting Emma’s eyes.

The gaze doesn’t break as she lifts the glass to her lips and drinks.

It starts slow at first, a gentle warmth within them, filling in the gaps and holes and the emptiness.

Alyssa has time to set the glass down on the table, then it hits them both like the impact of a steam train.

They stagger a few steps apart, overwhelmed, the spiraling emotions swirling together with lavender and woodsmoke.

Emma looks up, panting, tears in her eyes as the dual feelings start to settle in her mind. It takes a moment longer for Alyssa to look up as well, meeting her, fully crying.

“Are you okay?” Emma asks, hearing what’s almost a sob in her own voice.

Alyssa swallows and nods, tears pouring down her face. She tries to speak but chokes on the words, rushing forward and hugging Emma firmly.

“It’s alright,” Emma murmurs, pressing a kiss to Alyssa’s hair. “It’s alright.”

“I love you.” Alyssa tightens her grip, burying her face in Emma’s neck. “I _love_ you.”

“I love you, too.” Emma holds Alyssa as close as she can, both of them shivering as the mixture of affection, happiness, hope, sympathy, lust, almost everything they can feel hits them twofold.

Alyssa leans back, cupping Emma’s jaw, resting their foreheads together. “I need you. Please, Emma, I _need_ you.”

Emma’s breathing starts to calm, the jolt of emotion starting to settle to a more natural order, and she kisses Alyssa softly. “I promised that I’d always give you whatever you want,” she says with a slow grin.

Alyssa gives a high, happy laugh, one of her hands sliding up Emma’s back to tangle in her hair. “You did. Guess you’d better start making good on that, God of the Dead.”

“For you?” Emma puts her hands around Alyssa’s waist and holds her as close as possible as she steers her towards one of the side hallways. “It would be an honor, God of Flowers.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shoutout to brie for pointing out how well that poem fits these two


End file.
